


There is no Pain (I Tilled the Sorrows of Stone)

by Meysun



Series: Still Green [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Force Healing, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Loss, Love, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meysun/pseuds/Meysun
Summary: The aftermath of Qui-Gon’s death leaves Obi-Wan reeling and dealing with a distraught Anakin. The fight against the Sith took almost everything from him and something in the Force seems wrong and tilted. Despite a suspicious and reluctant Jedi Council, Obi-Wan is determined to keep his promise. But the price may be too high to pay, and cost him everything.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Yoda, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Still Green [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767514
Comments: 163
Kudos: 377





	1. Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there... I did it. I finally wrote that stuff. I have always wondered how Obi-Wan must have felt in the Phantom Menace, after being somewhat "pushed away" by his former master and then promising Qui-Gon to train Anakin. I really like Qui-Gon, but now that I'm older I realize even more how harsh and unfeeling it might have been. Thank the Force Obi-Wan is a dutiful, committed and compassionate Jedi, but there's plenty of room for fanfiction!  
> So this is it. A seven-chapter story where I play with our favourite characters, and twist the plot a tiny bit. I am going to post it every weekend, so as to keep a silver line in these times of confinement. I hope you enjoy this. Take care, much love, Meysun.

The hangar reeked of burnt metal, powder, blood and oil – the heavy price of victory. Padmé had seen battle, had seen death, but she was unspeakably grateful for the mask she always had to wear, the way her face somehow disappeared behind the complicated frame of her hair and the painted scar of her lip.

She did not break – there was far too much hope for this. There was far too much _work_ for this. Nute Gunray was finally a prisoner. The blockade was destroyed. The Gungans had fought heroically – and there was so much to build here, so much trust to regain still, bridges to gap, people to honour.

And there was Anakin. That sunny, reckless child from that dry, sandy, ruthless planet, who had flown through cruisers and missiles to blow up the Generator, leading them all to victory, and who was now running towards her, face streaked with dirt and beaming.

“We won, we won!”

And Padmé relented. Allowed Anakin to forget once more that she was not just Padmé Naberrie, but Queen Amidala – allowed him to jump into her arms and to squeeze her waist – because he had given them their freedom and was not even aware of it. It had all been just a game to him, and for that innocence, Padmé was grateful.

“Yes, Ani”, she whispered, fiercely fighting back tears. “We won.”

There was so much to do. The wounded and dead were laid on stretchers – there was still hope for some, there would be only grief for the others. She left the hangar, assured herself that Gunray was still heavily guarded, and listened to Boss Nass’ report about the battle, Ani still hoovering like a tiny shadow at her side.

The holoprojector had just been switched off – _she_ had just closed her eyes for a few seconds, thinking that it was _done_ , when hushed, fearful whispers reached her and she found her guards parting, making room for the young Jedi Padawan.

 _Obi-Wan_. His name was Obi-Wan. She should have remembered it, but it kept slipping from her mind – he was so discreet, she kept forgetting he was actually _there_ , and yet many a time it had been his blue, clear blade that had parried blaster bolts, saving her men’s lives.

There was no blue blade this time, though – and she understood the hushes, the fear instantly. The man that stood before her now was not the young and somewhat boyish Jedi apprentice. There was no gentle light in his gaze, no softness in the quiet way he held himself, not anymore.

Obi-Wan’s pale face was mottled with scratches, there was a crust of blood still oozing slightly from his temple, but the worst were his eyes.

They looked so empty. So grey.

And Padmé knew, then. There was no need for her to ask, not when the young Jedi seemed to sway where he stood, even though he was completely still, head bowed, hands curled quietly at his sides.

“Where is Qui-Gon?”

The crystalline, childish voice of Anakin broke the heavy silence and Padmé shuddered, because pain just seemed to _curl_ around the young Jedi. And yet he still lifted his head, and his soft voice managed to voice the unspeakable.

“Your Highness… Anakin… Master Qui-Gon fell.”

His voice barely hitched but his face seemed to turn to stone even more. Anakin opened his mouth, but this time Padmé took pity on the Jedi and placed her hand on his lips, drawing him against her.

“The Sith lord was killed. But Qui-Gon was taken back to the Force. I am so very, very sorry. I… I need to… Is there somewhere I could… I need to tend to his – I need to tell the Council. And I need to…”

He could not go on, despite his still posture, despite the quietness in his face and looks. And Anakin cut him anyway, with a terrible, heart-breaking scream.

“NO!”

Obi-Wan flinched, softly. But he did not move.

“Qui-Gon is not DEAD! He’s not, he’s not, he’s NOT!”

The little boy had begun to sob, and though Padmé tried to hush him, he suddenly broke free, running towards Obi-Wan, tiny fists raised, and before anyone could stop him, he had plummeted into the young Jedi, hitting him repeatedly wherever he could reach him.

“He’s not dead, why would he be, YOU’RE not, and you’re smaller! You don’t even fight, you’re just… standing there! Why do you say that? Why do you say that? He can’t be dead, he CAN’T be, I just TALKED to him! He PROMISED me!

\- Anakin!”

Padmé watched the scene in horror, the frenzy Ani was working himself into, the terrible words of a child in pain sure to wound the Jedi even more – he was not even defending himself, he had just placed both hands on Anakin’s shoulders, very lightly. And then he knelt, slowly, closing his eyes, and drew the boy against his chest, not caring for the blows and shouts.

And though Padmé felt like she had just witnessed another death, though she had seen many horrors and many battles, it was that simple move of compassion that finally brought tears to her eyes, causing them to flow.

*******

_There is no Pain, there is_ …

Blows raining on his chest.

_No Pain, only…_

Childish sobs, such despair, such heat, such profound sadness.

 _There is no Pain_ …

He could not remember. Could not remember the words. It was all… grey. Far away. Out of reach. Whenever he tried to remember, to think, to reach out for the Force, he felt like he was falling, spinning towards the ground – he felt like after that plane crash on Pijal, dizzy and sick and bleeding and…

“He promised…”

He was kneeling. And the little boy was crying in his chest, fists curled, no longer striking. Somehow they were both clinging to the other, and Obi-Wan realised his face was leaning against Anakin’s sweaty locks, that his arms had curled around the tiny boy’s waist, who was trembling hard enough to shake both of them.

And Obi-Wan realized he could not bear to see someone so young endure such profound pain. It could not be. It should not be.

And though it hurt – though it made him want to retch, at first, because reaching out for the Force just felt _wrong_ right now, there was something missing, something essential, there was no balance, not anymore, and it just _hurt_ … Despite all that, Obi-Wan still reached out, pleading silently, and found just enough grace and warmth to wrap them around the boy, trying to quench his tears, trying to calm his raging soul…

_He is gone. I am sorry. But I promise you are not alone. I will not let you be alone. I promised him. And I promise you now._

Slowly, very slowly, Anakin’s sobs spaced – and stilled. His face was still buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, hot and sweaty – it felt so fragile. His arms moved, wrapping themselves around Obi-Wan’s chest, and suddenly the young Jedi was almost overwhelmed with _feelings_.

 _I want to go back – I want my Mum – I blew it all up I wish you could have seen it – I promise I stayed in the cockpit – I’m sorry I hit you – why did he_ die _– I miss him – please don’t leave me…_

“I will not leave you”, Obi-Wan whispered, brokenly. “You have to tell me all about… about what you did. How you… how you managed to hit that spot. And to… fly like that.”

_But not now, little one. Now you should focus on what you achieved and leave the grief to me. I can take the pain. You just sleep. You just sleep._

The little boy was exhausted, and ere long Obi-Wan could feel him get heavier against him, arms going lax and face slowly trailing towards his neck.

He felt heavy himself. And so slow. His arms ached. His chest ached. His heart ached even more. But he had to move, and so he slowly stood, Anakin still cradled in his arms, like Qui-Gon _had been_ – only to realise that everyone was looking at them, their faces full of sorrow.

“Is there anywhere… anywhere I can… My master” – he gulped down a fresh onslaught of pain. “I left his body in one of the rooms. I need to tend to him. I need to tell the Council.

\- Yes. Of course”, Amidala said, and Obi-Wan realized tears had streaked her face also – because she had been with Qui-Gon and had loved him too.

No one could be with Qui-Gon and _not_ love him – the tidal wave of hurt hitting him was unexpected and left him reeling, but when he tried to breathe around it and release it into the Force, everything seemed to tilt, nothing was as it should and he felt _sick_.

“Easy, easy, easy…”

Someone had grabbed his shoulder; someone was taking Anakin from him and the loss of warmth and care to bestow left him cold and shivering.

_There is no Pain, there is…_

Rough hands making him sit, leaning him against the wall, undoing his belt, opening his Jedi tunic – he could not even bat the hands away, he could barely feel anything, there was just grey and fog and _loss_ …

“Can’t find any blood…”, the gruff voice said. “But heavy bruises. And broken ribs. He’ll need a scan.

\- No”, Obi-Wan whispered. “Please. My master…

\- Young Jedi, you just passed out on us.

\- You don’t understand. I need to… stand guard. I need to…

\- What you need, young one, is to lie down.

\- Please… please…”

There was no control, anymore, in his voice, in his breath, in anything. He was shaking, and even though he could only see one face – that black, brave Captain who was never leaving the Queen’s side, Obi-Wan still felt hot shame wash down on him. Especially when a soft hand found his brow, wiping down the sweat gathered there, thumb gently brushing against his hair.

“Panaka, he will not calm himself if we stay deaf to his needs.”

Padmé’s young voice was calm. Decided. It was everything _his_ should be, and Obi-Wan shivered – because he could not feel the Force around him, not really, everything was _askew_ , he could just reach out to what still felt like an anchor to him.

And so, when she gently clasped his hand in his, he clung to her fingers and turned his face towards her, trying to blink back darkness.

“Communication is on its way. You _do_ need to inform the Jedi of what just happened. If they need to join you, please assure them that we will make sure everything is ready for them.”

Obi-Wan’s breathing was calming down, slowly but surely – he was _trying_. Trying to keep himself in the moment. To gather strength from those steady words, that kind brown gaze.

“Now. About your Master”, Padmé continued, very softly, her hand still holding his. “I understand there are traditions. You do not need to tell me anything. Just know that… whatever you need, we shall provide.

\- Your Highness, I do not think he is in _any_ shape for…

\- He is aware. I know he is. They are not like us, Panaka. They are attuned to the world around us. He just lost his _master_ , Panaka. He just defeated that… that _thing_. That is why he bleeds.

\- I… need to stand guard. I need to stay with him.”

His voice was just a whisper, but it was coming back. Closing his eyes seemed to help. They burned less. But his face felt wet.

“I don’t need anything. Just a room where we can stay.”

Qui-Gon’s body would not wither for at least a day – the Force would not leave him that quickly. He would just have to clean his body and wrap him in his cloak. And stay until it would be time to burn him and give him back to the Force, where he belonged. Where he had always belonged.

“Obi-Wan?”

Padmé’s voice was soft. So very soft.

“Whenever you are ready… you can call them.”

She gently took his hand, placing it on his lap, pressing a holoprojector into his palm. And he realised he was still in the hangar, still leaning against the wall – but there was almost no one save empty cruisers, Padmé and Panaka.

He rubbed his face, sluggishly. Smoothed down his hair, or at least tried to – because it was futile. He took a few deep breaths – he did not try to reach out for the Force, the Force was just whirling him around and something in him was still _bleeding_.

It was not right. But he could not fix it, not really, not now. He could just try to… press down on it. Like a wound.

_There is no Pain…_

There did not seem to be an ending to those words, and it did not feel right. But now was not the time, or the place to dwell upon that.

So Obi-Wan tried to quell the shuddering despair that was still gripping him, tried to take a few centric breaths, like he had been taught – tried to gather his tattered shields and found that if he did not think too much, they were still holding…

And then, when he found that yes, he could speak and yes, he could remember the frequency that had been drilled into him ever since their first mission and yes, he could sit upright and be calm and stop shaking – then, Obi-Wan’s fingers slowly moved to switch the holoprojector on.

They were in the Mid Rim and the device was small. There would not be any images. Just blurred blue lines. And sound.

“Report to us you need, young Padawan?”

The voice was old. Known. Familiar. And Obi-Wan instantly felt _some_ warmth wash over him, cradling his broken self in a soothing embrace.

“Master Yoda…?”

His voice was still trembling slightly, and for a while he could only breathe – but he felt them. All of them. The daunting, imposing, yet kind presences of the Council Qui-Gon had fought so much.

“Hurt you are, young Padawan. Speak to us you must, and share your burden. Worried about you, we have been.”

_Home. I want to go home._

Obi-Wan’s eyes burned again – because he could feel them, the tendrils of compassion and care and worry, even without seeing them. And so, fighting back his tears once more, he finally managed to whisper the words he needed so badly, and yet seemed to cost him so much.

“Masters… I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of chapter one. I've decided to always write one character and then to go back to Obi-Wan. In the next chapter, to my utter delight : Yoda, and then more of our favorite young Jedi. Feel free to review and tell me what you think! Till next Friday, Meysun.


	2. Braids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears, and here comes another Friday-chapter! Thank you for your comments and kudos, they really really make my day, and have pushed me really hard to try and write those voices we all love. I hope this chapter will not disappoint, obviously there is more to come. Enjoy, stay home if you can and take care, Meysun.

A slim reed in the wind. A quiet brooklet, gently reflecting the sun. Lithe, almost unobtrusive, yet so resilient and strong – this was how Jinn’s Padawan always came to Yoda’s mind.

No thunder, in that one, but such Force – and yet such humility. The only one in their lineage, Kenobi was, who always knew, more than anything, what his failures were – even when there was none, and when it should have been another taking the blame.

Jinn ever was headstrong – an oak, a formidable river roaring, flooding everyone in the Force, proud and fierce, scorching like a sun. But the oak had been struck by lightning, the river was dried, and the sun had sunken.

And Jinn’s Padawan grieved.

They had come from Coruscant as soon as their call had ended – the new Chancellor, Windu and him, because these were terrible news. Qui-Gon Jinn dead, by a Sith lord defeated by Kenobi - young Kenobi who had just been pushed away in front of the whole Jedi Council, but had nonetheless stood by his Master and followed him until the end.

But whose end this was, truly, unable to tell he was – and though sadness gripped his old heart as he was staring at Qui-Gon’s Jinn striking face, lying there in peace as though carved in marble, it was the stone-like features of his Padawan that filled Yoda with worry.

They were in the room where Obi-Wan had been standing vigil for Qui-Gon, cleaning his body, draping him in his robe, folding his hands peacefully on his chest – and yet it seemed to Yoda that the Padawan looked worse than the one he had taken care of so lovingly.

The slender reed was trembling, the brooklet was not reflecting any sun but looked grey - so grey. The Force loved Jinn’s Padawan, very, very dearly, and had curled around his being like a soft column of light – but he did not seem to sense it.

He had welcomed them, had almost moved towards them like a lost child but had remembered that a boy he was no more – Jinn had trained him well – and so, had taken a step back and bowed.

“Thank you for coming, Grandmaster Yoda, Master Windu.”

There was such sorrow in that thin voice. And yet, no tears. Just bruises and cuts on his face, and on his temple – but Obi-Wan had cleaned his body so as to stand next to his Master in peace, and there was no other evidence, at first glance, of the fierce, horrible battle Yoda and Windu had already watched on the holographic records.

And now they were just standing there, two Jedi and a Padawan guarding a fallen Master - and to Yoda, young Kenobi’s silent grief seemed deafening. It was edged in his pale, pinched features, in the way his eyes never left Jinn’s face – Jinn who had thrown the gentle brooklet into his raging waters, who had always loomed over the slender reed, and yet who had loved his Padawan with all he held dear, until he was blinded by an old Prophecy.

But such were angry thoughts – and he had loved Qui-Gon also, _because_ he was an oak, a roaring river, and a sun. And so, Yoda released such thoughts into the Force, and allowed himself to grieve, for a few moments, before gently letting go of these feelings as well.

“You did not heal your ribs”, Mace’s voice echoed, quietly, between the high walls and chiselled statues.

Kenobi gave a small start, and the gentle Force column around him flickered, and wrapped itself even tighter around him. But once more the Padawan seemed unaware of it, and Yoda realised that this was no conscious Force-channelling. It was not coming from Kenobi – young Kenobi who had, indeed, been unable to heal himself – no, this was the Force taking pity of the gentle reed it loved, holding it upright, bestowing warmth and strength where none was left.

“No, Master”, Kenobi answered, in that raspy, broken voice that told of too much grief. “But I wrapped them. They are just cracked. It does not hurt.

\- Feel them, you do?”, Yoda asked, quietly.

“No, Grandmaster”, Kenobi whispered. “I do not feel them.”

His eyes were still on his Master’s face – grey, not blue, grey like old, faded stone, like dust, like ashes. Yoda shared a look with Mace, and he nodded.

_\- Wrapped in the Force, the young one is._

_\- But he does not feel it._

Mace was frowning slightly – it always looked very fierce on his dark face.

 _\- I do not like this. And I cannot get past his shields. By all accounts, they should be in tatters…_ He _is. But I cannot read him. Can you?_

_\- Much Force there is, around our slender reed. Prying, it wants to avoid._

_\- What if it is him, and not the Force? What if that Sith lord turned him? You have seen the records…_

_\- A fierce battle, I have seen. A Padawan turning to the Dark Side, I have not. Question him, we must. But not now. Now is a time for grief, and for comfort._

Mace nodded, wordlessly, their brief and silent conversation ending. Kenobi did not seem to have picked up anything – but then, the Padawan was almost in a trance, having stood at his Master’s side for hours on end.

The sun was almost setting, and the vigil soon ended.

The pyre would be lit in a small pavilion, where officials, friends and brothers would be able to gather – they would wait for the stars to shine, and would release Jinn’s body into the Force, where his spirit already was.

Now, however, the Padawan could let the Masters take over, and it fell to Mace to escort Jinn’s body towards the pavilion, leaving Yoda with Obi-Wan for a much needed moment. They had discussed it, during their journey to Naboo – and though Yoda could still feel Mace’s doubts, he himself had none.

“Come with me, you shall”, Yoda said gently, reaching out with the Force to rouse him, because Jinn’s Padawan was still staring in quiet despair at the door through which Windu had left with the body.

Small tremors were starting to run through Kenobi’s body, and the gentle Force column seemed to release its grip as he was slowly coming back to himself.

Through the Force, Yoda assured himself that he was not quite going to fall, yet, and led him with small, cane-clicking steps towards a room where the sun was flooding the walls in crimson gold, throwing its rays on the vast stone floor.

“Kneel you will, young Kenobi”, Yoda said, carefully watching the Padawan’s pinched face, the way sweat was slowly beading on his brow again.

Obi-Wan obeyed, hands gently feeling for the tiles, like a blind man would – and Yoda could tell he was not really seeing him, not really feeling what was going on.

But this could be helped.

The old Master quietly rummaged through his robe, and drew a very small thermic jug, unscrewing it to use the top as a cup.

“Drink you will, young Padawan”, he said, very gently – and this time, his hand reached for his shoulder, resting there in mute support.

Obi-Wan blinked, then took a small sip and had a full body-shudder, frowning slightly. Yoda squeezed his shoulder encouragingly – soon enough, the cup was empty, and Kenobi’s cheeks not quite as bloodless.

“Better, you feel?

\- Y-yes, Grandmaster”, the Padawan stuttered. “Thank you.

\- A second one, you could use. Shivering like a banner in the wind, you are.”

His voice was chiding gently, and this had always been the way to get Kenobi to listen – afraid to disappoint, the young one always was, and this, again, was Jinn’s training. Once more, Yoda released these thoughts into the Force, and found Obi-Wan’s clear gaze fixed on him.

He looked troubled, he looked _young_. He looked hurt and unwell and unsure, and Yoda’s heart swelled with compassion.

“A good recipe this is, against Force exhaustion. Strong tea, and a whiff of nourishing herbs from my home planet.”

He poured Obi-Wan a second cup, and pressed it in the young one’s hand, pleased to see that this time, the frown seemed a little more familiar – this was Jinn’s Padawan processing his words, quietly.

But Obi-Wan was still too weak to talk much, and had sense enough to silently sip his second cup – and despite the pain and hurt he was still radiating like a beacon, he seemed a bit more settled once he handed it back to Yoda.

“I beg your pardon, Grandmaster”, Obi-Wan said quietly. “I was not really myself, just then. I thank you, very deeply, for coming to my aid and for the care you have just shown me.

\- Thank me, you must not. Aid in need, the Temple will always provide to its children.”

Yoda screwed the jug closed and placed it back into his robe.

“Shaken you have been, young Padawan”, he stated quietly, and he watched Obi-Wan’s eyes slowly fill with tears that would never flow.

“Yes, Grandmaster.

\- Not just here, Padawan”, Yoda added gently, and Obi-Wan proved him wrong, this time, because a solitary tear found its way down his cheek, disappearing into his braid.

“No, Grandmaster.” – he hastily wiped at his cheek, eyes searching for Yoda’s again. “I do not… I did not mean to.

\- Sad you are. And rightly so. But release your sadness you must, or you will drown, little brooklet.

\- Yes, Grandmaster.”

Obi-Wan did not even frown at the long-lost nickname, and Yoda sighed.

“Stood by your Master, you did in Coruscant. Even when he pushed you aside for another. Your mind on this, I wish to hear.”

Jinn’s Padawan did not lower his face, but the sadness and hurt edged there only intensified – mixed with that unique form of love and loyalty that was reserved for Qui-Gon.

“My mind… about Anakin? About Qui-Gon training him?

\- Yes, young one. About you being ready to take the trials, also.

\- Grandmaster, I… I am sorry if by – by saying that I was ready, I implied that I was not taking your advice into account.

\- Taking our advice, Master Jinn very rarely did”, Yoda commented, lightly. “He was the one proclaiming you were ready. Not you. Jumped to his help, as often, you have. Your mind, there and then, you have not spoken, and I wish to hear it now. To shield you master, no longer need there is. His choices he made.”

Obi-Wan stayed silent for a while, and then he took a deep breath.

“I cannot, Grandmaster. I am so very sorry. I cannot see clearly. I… I did not understand – but my Master, Qui-Gon, he…”

Fresh tears sprang to his eyes and Yoda realised that this was, probably, way too soon a conversation to have. Yet once more, Obi-Wan surprised him.

“Grandmaster – I have lived twelve years with Master Qui-Gon. And I… knew him. He would not have budged. He was so sure. He felt Anakin was the Chosen One and he… He could feel the Force changing, and he wanted to investigate this. To be a part of this. But I… I could not really understand. I was… I felt it, on this last mission. I was slowing him down.”

He paused to wipe at his cheek, very quietly, a strand of short, unruly hair falling into his eyes.

“Because I did not understand this quest. I… have never been very good with the Living Force, Grandmaster.”

Yoda hummed, slightly – a quiet way to disagree. The Living Force was many things: a thrumming signal, a resonance, that Qui-Gon had always claimed as a justification for rash actions, often involving what could be called both _meddling_ and saving.

“I am not good with… understanding what the Force wants to do with people. I… Mostly I just see them through the Cosmic Force. As… beings I want to help and understand, but that I cannot fathom. But Qui-Gon, he… He always _saw_ people. He saw their potential and could never bear to leave them to their fate, if he was able to help them _expand_. He always said that understanding was good, but that I had to reach into myself, into the Living part that also flowed through me, so as to act as well.”

The young Padawan paused, looking pale and drained once more.

“Trust quietly in the Force, you did”, Yoda said softly. “Much confidence, a Jedi needs, to affirm that his actions upon another being are the will of the Force. Much strength and commitment, to face the consequences.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze lowered, and his words were almost a whisper:

“He thought I was _too_ accepting. Too passive. He did not say. But I felt it through our bond.”

Yoda took a sharp intake of breath and Obi-Wan glanced up, hastily adding:

“I did not pry, Grandmaster. He projected it clearly enough, and it was no anger, it was just… He wanted to teach me something, even then. So I… tried to give him some space. I stayed on the ship with the Queen’s crew, I… did not ask any questions when he came back with Anakin. But I could feel his joy, his excitement through our bond, his absolute confidence and belief in the Living Force and I… I had no part in this. What he found in the boy was… He was so thrilled. So full of joy and anticipation. I had not felt that for long, coming from him. That is why I knew. Why I was… ready when he told the Council.”

Yoda shook his head quietly and placed his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder once more. Little brooklet. Resilient, strong little reed.

“I see, Padawan. Hurt you deeply, this must have. Meditate on this, you will need and so will I. But seem to me, it does, that though the Master loosened the bond with his Padawan, the Padawan was already self-reliant enough to let his Master go. And great wisdom this shows, for me.”

He smiled at Obi-Wan, meeting only profound sadness, surprise and disbelief.

“Time for discussing old wrongs and bonds, this is not. A time of trials, this has been for you – and overcome them, you have, Obi-Wan.”

His hand clutched Obi-Wan’s shoulder, forcefully, and then he let go and faced him earnestly.

“Confer on you the level of Jedi Knight, the Council does.”

The rays of the sun were crimson now. They threw fiery glows into Obi-Wan’s hair, flooding his skin with both shadow and gold. And the young one just _stared_ , eyes grey and awash.

“Grandmaster… are you sure?”

No Padawan, _none_ , had ever answered such news with these words – and this time Yoda did not release his anger at the consequences of Jinn’s rash behaviour into the Force. Instead, he channelled it into the most steadfast, warm and loving form of surety he could summon, and quietly wrapped it around Obi-Wan.

The slender reed shuddered. The brooklet wept. But the young Jedi still knelt, like a statue, and with every passing moment, every calming breath Yoda took, the fierce breeze seemed to relent, the troubled waters calmed, and finally – finally, Jinn’s last Padawan allowed Yoda’s words to sink in.

“Sure I am. Trust in you, I always have. Proud of you, I am, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He closed his eyes, then. He was still kneeling, hands curled against the stone, hair kissed by the sun. He was leaning into the Force, soaking it in.

And when Obi-Wan spoke at last, his voice was low, but steady:

“Will you take it from me, Grandmaster?”

They were alone. There would be no one to witness the moment Kenobi had prepared for all his life, almost ever since his first breath. There would be no cheers. No feast. No proud Masters’ smiles. Only a funeral, and the steady words of an old Grandmaster in a vast, empty room.

“Yes, young one.”, Yoda answered, quietly. “If your wish this is.”

Obi-Wan nodded, bowing his head. He did not flinch when Yoda drew his lightsaber, his moves calm and loving, making sure the power and heat were as gentle as they could be.

“Long is the way, young Padawan”, he said, softly, taking Obi-Wan’s long braid into his hand.

“Thread it, I must, Master”, Obi-Wan answered, eyes still closed, and only Yoda was there to watch them spill, very quietly, as his blade severed the Padawan’s braid.

“May the Force be with you, young Knight Kenobi.

\- May the Force be with you, Grandmaster Yoda.”

He took a small, white cloth from his robe and gently wrapped the braid into it, taking hold of Obi-Wan’s hand and bestowing it there. And though something more was missing in the young one’s features now, it seemed to Yoda he was more complete now – that it had been the most natural thing to do, and he let go quietly of that surety in the Force.

“About the boy, now…”, the Grandmaster began – and Obi-Wan’s hand curled quietly around his braid, hiding it into his tunic.

“Seen the holograms I have. Heard Qui-Gon’s words, I did. Your promise to him, as well. But, young one, though your words honour you, agree with you taking this boy as a Padawan learner, _I do not_.”

The reed shook but did not break. The brooklet bubbled yet still flowed, steadfastly, almost stubbornly.

“Qui-Gon believed in him.”

Soft, quiet words of unending loyalty. Yoda sighed, deeply.

“The Chosen One the boy may be. Nevertheless, though careful one must always be with the Force and its nudges, grave danger I fear in his training.”

Silence filled the room for a heartbeat, and Yoda sensed Obi-Wan gather all the courage, all the will he still had in him.

“Master Yoda”, - Obi-Wan swallowed, and Yoda could feel the pain his next sentence carried. “I gave Qui-Gon my word.”

And such – such the dices rolled, because they had rolled long ago. Because the Council had tried to pound some sense into Jinn making sure Obi-Wan would be at his side, forcing him to reach out for his more reflective and gentle sides. But in the end, such was the unending devotion, love and loyalty Qui-Gon had inspired in one so young, so eager to please and so committed, that there would be no way around it.

To curb the reed, once more, on this matter, would only mean to break it. And that slender, steadfast reed was not _meant_ to break.

“I will train Anakin. Without the approval of the Council if I must.”

Such courage, in that simple act of defiance. Because it went, utterly and completely, against Obi-Wan’s nature and instincts – and yet, perhaps, this was indeed the will of the Force.

Yoda released a deep, worried sigh, and then he made his decision – had he not trained Dooku, to try and keep him from strange and dark obsessions? Had Dooku not proven able to train Jinn? Had Jinn not managed to bring Obi-Wan to Knighthood, to defy a Darkness most Jedi had never faced...? Perhaps, indeed, it was time to let that thread unfold itself.

“Qui-Gon’s defiance I sense in you. Need that you do not.”

_Not you, young one._

“Agree with you the Council does. Your apprentice Skywalker will be.”

The sun had set. The room was darker now, and time was running out. Yoda could feel Obi-Wan’s exhaustion – but now was the time to let Qui-Gon go, and the young Knight would need all his strength for that last act of love and acceptance.

So Yoda reached out, one last time, and gently nudged the Force so that it wrapped around Kenobi’s body.

“Rise, young Knight. Say goodbye to our friend, we must. Alone, we must not remain.”

One last time, Kenobi’s hand brushed the stone floor, where he had knelt as a Padawan and would rise as a Knight. The sun had left his hair, and yet, though Yoda could sense sadness, hurt and something _else_ , running deep into his being like a scar, there was no darkness in the young one now standing before him.

Not _this_ one.

*******

It was done. It was done.

_There is no Pain, no Pain, no Pain…_

But there _was_ , and Obi-Wan felt like he was drowning in it. It was robbing him of air. Of strength. Of thoughts, even.

His Master was gone. His body had returned to the Force, burning his Padawan braid with him – he had made sure to place it between Qui-Gon’s hands, and no one had objected.

And then he had withdrawn into himself, buried in the hood of his Jedi cloak, listening to the grief of the clumsy, easy-going Gungan that had become a friend, and who had hugged him tightly when they had parted.

“Mesa so sadden for yousa. But yousa big Jedi now.”

 _Big Jedi indeed_ , Obi-Wan thought, so very tiredly, resting his aching skull against the metallic head of the bunk bed, listening to the cruiser’s vibrations as it sped them towards Coruscant.

It had all felt like a blur. Qui-Gon’s funeral, and all those _words_ and goodbyes. Now there was only silence. The Jedi Masters had sent him to rest for the remaining journey and had directed a very overwhelmed and excited Anakin towards the pilots, trying to focus the child’s mind on something else than Qui-Gon, Coruscant, or Force forbid _himself_.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

_There is no Pain, no Pain, no Pain…_

“Master Obi-Wan…?”

The whisper was loud and childish, and Obi-Wan blinked, realising it was dark in the cabin, and that _some_ time must have passed without him knowing how.

“Anakin?

\- ‘m sorry I woke you up, but Master Windu told me to check on you, so I do.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes, struggling to sit up. He felt nauseous with lack of sleep, yet so empty it almost hurt. Before he could move much, though, he felt Anakin climb into the bunk, curling around his side, pulling Obi-Wan’s Jedi cloak on them. It still smelt of the pyre, and Obi-Wan stiffened.

“Not – not that, Anakin…”

The little boy’s eyes were wide in the darkness. He was just so _small_. Obi-Wan quickly pushed the cloak away, towards the ground, reaching for the covers, and Anakin promptly nestled back into his side, resting his head against the crook of his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his chest.

“’tis cold.

\- That would be space”, Obi-Wan whispered, hand finding Anakin’s back, hesitantly stroking it, because he could feel the little boy shiver.

“You don’t feel so cold. Your face feels very warm. _Here_ , and _here_.”

Small hands felt for his cheek, and his temple – and Obi-Wan stiffened again, fighting the urge to squirm away from his touch, because it was… it was…

Anakin’s hand trailed back to his other shoulder, and rested there, trustingly. His tiny body was beginning to warm, and his breath was slowing down, as well as his heartbeats.

“Did you eat something?”, Obi-Wan asked, fingers still splayed across his bony back, suddenly remembering that Anakin had to be starved, unlike him who felt like retching at the very _thought_ of food.

“Yes, Master. And Master Windu snapped at me.”

There was a pout, clearly, at the end of these words, and Obi-Wan turned his face towards Anakin, forehead almost touching his.

“And why was that, Anakin?”

The little boy reached out, fingers trailing through Obi-Wan’s hair, the rhythmic motions clearly soothing him.

_Mum – safety – closeness – warmth – no Jedi Master – no snapping – feels good – Mum – Mum, safety…_

“Why did Master Windu snap?”, Obi-Wan asked again, leaning a bit more into Anakin’s touch, heart breaking a little at the small boy’s thoughts.

“He said I ate too fast. And too much. That I needed to choose between eating or talking and stop stuffing myself.”

A flare of protectiveness surged deep from Obi-Wan’s core, surprising him and Anakin even more.

“I’m sorry, Master”, the little boy whispered, small fingers still wrapping themselves around his short, unruly spikes.

“No, Anakin. _I_ am sorry.”

 _I am going to make sure you always,_ always _eat your fill, little one._

“Jedi usually _try_ to restrain themselves, Anakin. But Master Windu does not know you, and the life you led. And he did not know I forgot to feed you, on Naboo…

\- Don’t worry Master, Padmé did. It’s just… it’s all so _good_. And there’s so _much_. It scares me that it could all just… go to waste.

\- It won’t, rest assured. No need to inhale the stuff on that account.”

He was not smiling – he _could not_. But Anakin was, beaming at him in the darkness, small teeth flashing in the dark, and then the boy nodded.

“Master…”

The voice was earnest now, and Obi-Wan could feel the small fingers bury themselves into his skull – it felt surprisingly _good_ , grounding him as well, easing some of the throbbing pain he felt.

_Yes, little one?_

“How do you do that?”, Anakin asked, eyes wide with wonder. “How do you manage to speak inside my head…?

\- I just _think_. And I project my thoughts towards you.

\- Is… Master Windu able to do the same thing?”

Well, there was definitely _some_ kind of grudge here, Obi-Wan mused.

“In cases of dire need, yes. But only then.

\- I don’t want him in my head!”, Anakin voiced, full of alarm.

“He won’t be”, Obi-Wan tried to reassure him. “Worst case scenario, he’ll be in _mine_.”

He nudged his Padawan’s forehead, gently – it was weird, what with Anakin’s hand in his hair or that little body pressed closed to him, but he felt _better_. Less nauseous. A little lighter.

“If he yells at you, I’ll snap at him”, the little boy promised, earnestly, but his body inched even closer towards him and this time, Obi-Wan almost smiled.

_No need, Padawan._

“I like _you_ in my head. It feels good. Like… I’m holding your hand.”

_That is because we have a bond._

“A bond? Like –

\- Like Master and Padawan. Through that bond, you can reach me, and I can reach you, unless our shields are up.

\- Reach you how?”, the little boy interrupted, squirming in excitement.

“I just told you. You think. And you try to project your thoughts towards me.”

\- …

…

_… LIKE THAT, MASTER…?!!!!_

Obi-Wan flinched, almost hitting the wall.

“ _Ow_ – Anakin, no need to shout, I can hear you perfectly…”

_\- Sorry, Master… Is that better….?_

_\- Yes. Much better. You are a fast learner, little one…_

“That’s what Watto always said to me”, Anakin mumbled sleepily, clearly fatigued by their little exercise, too many emotions and a long day.

Obi-Wan allowed his hand to trail up to the child’s head, stroking his long, sandy hair, and was about to try and send a sleep suggestion to his little Padawan, when Anakin spoke again.

“Did it hurt?

\- Did what hurt…?”, Obi-Wan asked, softly.

“When your braid was cut. The Chancellor told me it was burned off by a lightsaber… Did it smell of burnt hair? It happened to me once, when I was working on Threepio…”

Obi-Wan sighed, quietly. There was so much to try and understand, on both sides – he really had to get to know what Anakin’s life had been, back there. Most of the time, he had the feeling he had no idea what he was talking about, and whenever he thought about the one who had seen it, who had known all about it, it just _hurt_ so much he was left trembling.

“I’m sorry, Master. Sometimes I just talk too much, and I forget. Threepio is… _was_ my droid. Well, actually, his name is C-3P0 and he’s a protocol droid. I built him back myself. There’s only the covering missing now.

\- This is very impressive”, Obi-Wan answered, thinking of the complex circuits of a protocol droid. “I wish I could have seen it.

\- Yeah…”, Anakin said, word trailing lazily, hand finding its way back to Obi-Wan’s hair. “So… did it hurt?

\- No, little one. And it most certainly did not _stink_ …”

Anakin had a small laughter, but his breath was evening out, slowly. He was almost closing his eyes, on the brink of sleep now.

“What is going to happen with _my_ hair? Is it going to be cut? Will I also have a braid, like yours?

\- Yes, little one. I will weave a braid into that mane of yours. And then the rest will be cut, just like my hair.”

Anakin pondered his words, and then he closed his eyes.

“And you, Master?”, he asked, words slightly slurred. “Will you keep it short, like that? Or will you let it grow, like, you know… like Qui-Gon?”

It _ached_. To hear his name. To have his face right before his eyes, knowing it was gone forever.

But there was another, sleep-ridden face pressing against his, and so Obi-Wan tried to let some of that pain go, forcing out an answer.

“And what do you think, little one?”

Anakin’s fingers moved, very slowly, gently brushing against a strand of hair.

“I like how it feels. I think you should let it grow, and then we will see.

\- _We_ will see, hmm?”

Anakin snuggled even closer, face burying against Obi-Wan’s neck.

_Sleep – safety – warmth – trust - tired – like you a lot, lot, lot… Tomorrow you’ll show me your rooms and it’s going to be very – very – …_

The little boy was soon fast asleep, breathing into Obi-Wan’s chest. The young Jedi folded his arms around the tiny body, making sure Anakin was properly covered.

It was strange. Something was _askew_. He was still feeling unwell, in a way that resembled blood loss – but Obi-Wan had checked his body, and there was no injury. Nothing explaining the headache, the pain in his chest, and the urge to throw up whenever he reached out for the Force and found something _missing_ there.

He was feeling cold, and yet his forehead burned – he could feel sweat start to bead on his skin wherever Anakin was touching him, but on the other hand, he was feeling slightly better with the boy against him.

And so, though it was not the Jedi way – though he probably was the worst Jedi Knight _ever_ , and certainly not made for a task like that, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and pulled his Padawan even more against him.

_There is no Pain._

_There’s a small, tiny, little boy who shall never know hunger anymore – who will tell me all about droids and flying and friends and feelings…_

_There’s my Padawan. There’s my Padawan. There’s my Padawan._

Sleep pulled Obi-Wan under, brutally, and this time, this one time, he did not fight it. And so, both slept, limbs tangled in a narrow cot, on the fast cruiser that brought them all back - to Coruscant and the dares it held. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there they go, newly-made Master and Padawan... Please feel free to comment, I just love your reactions! Next chapter will feature a Jedi Council very determined to find out what happened during the fight against Maul... and because I'm crazy and love a good dare, I'll try to make it through Master Windu (I'm not Ani, I don't hold a grudge, even though he *does* scowl) :-). Have a lovely week, and till next Friday, Meysun.


	3. Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear ones! Friday again, and I'm so excited to post this new chapter, that has been a real dare to write as it involves the Jedi Council! Much angst in this chapter - I was actually aiming for more Ani & Obi fluff and the characters decided completely otherwise... I love this so much about writing :). Hope it will ring true to you. More notes below after your read :).
> 
> This story turned out, unexpectedly, to be written at the same time as Siri_Kenobi12 's story It Takes A Village. Her story is set in the Jedi Apprentice universe, while mine is not. However, sometimes we have similar ideas, and sometimes we inspire each other. I totally recommand reading it, you can find it here : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680915/chapters/56851234
> 
> I also want to tell you how much your reviews and feedback mean to me. They actually make me so happy that I don't know what I will do when I'll finally reach chapter 7. Take care, stay safe and loved, Meysun.

Light flooded the Council tower, outlining Coruscant’s unending streets in soft hues of gold and blue. It had been a crisp, unusually cold morning – but the day would warm yet, and ere long the sun’s heat would try to break through the wide windows, kept at bay by the powerful regulation system.

There was only Light. But here it did not scorch.

Mace Windu walked calmly towards his seat, placing his data-pad on his lap. He bowed to Yoda, already perched in his own chair, and then he waited for his friends and colleagues to join their places.

They were all troubled – he could sense it through the Council bond they shared, during the sessions. A pattern of feelings they did not want or could not shield, projecting them instead like stars of the same constellation.

Concern, radiating like a warm embrace from Yoda, quietly mirrored by Yaddle.

Quiet sadness, yet acceptance – this was Plo Koon, who had been an old friend of Qui-Gon’s.

Silent shock from Ki-Adi-Mundi, who had taken the seat Qui-Gon had refused.

Wariness, disbelief from Eeth Koth, always so fierce and so enduring.

A vibrant need to understand from Adi Gallia, whose conversations with Qui-Gon had always sounded like the softest sparring.

And from Depa Billaba, his former Padawan… there was so much warmth. Such care, for she had known death and remembered.

He nodded to Yarael Poof and Saesee Tiin, always so quiet, to Oppo Rancisis and Even Piell. And then, as so often, Mace Windu proceeded, cutting quickly to the matter at hand – their Council bond allowing them to skip formalities.

“You have all watched the holograms. Qui-Gon was right, and the assailant on Naboo was indeed a Sith lord. Master or Apprentice, this we do not know, _yet_. Since he is dead, and his body could not be found, we must try and find out what we can about him.”

_Easy. Kenobi dealt with him – Kenobi has battled him. He got to his core. He might have sensed some clues. We just have to ask him._

Eeth Koth’s ruthless voice echoed through the Council bond, and almost immediately, as so often, Adi Gallia sang her soft countermelody:

“And how is Obi-Wan? Can we ask such a task of him yet?

\- He’s a Jedi.”, Eeth answered. “A Jedi _Knight_.”

 _A Knight who has just lost his Master_ , Deepa projected gently. _It has only been three days, Eeth, and he has been through a grievous fight._

“I agree.”- this was Plo Koon’s deep voice, slightly muffled by his mask. “That Sith warrior was trained in all the Dark uses of the Force. He wanted to kill Qui-Gon. And to kill or turn Obi-Wan, that much is clear.”

They all fell silent, thinking of the terrible _sai tok_ Obi-Wan used, cleaving the Sith warrior in two. And yet his first move had been to run to his fallen Master, instantly switching his lightsaber off.

“Very shaken, the young one has been”, Yoda said, quietly. “To the healers, he had to be taken.”

Mace quietly opened his data-pad and loaded Obi-Wan’s file. There was no privacy where health was concerned, for the well-being of one Jedi meant the well-being of the whole Temple. But healers usually tried to keep their reports to a minimal level. Which, in this case, was almost nothing.

“Headache, nausea, low blood pressure and fever – all symptoms of Force exhaustion. Three cracked ribs, a bruised left shoulder, small wounds to the face and head with a slight concussion. They managed to alleviate the signs of Force exhaustion and recommended rest. The wounds should be healed by now.

\- And what do the mind healers say?”, Adi Gallia asked, softly.

Mace sighed, flicking down the page of the thin report.

“He kept very quiet. He has not spoken much about himself and even less about the fight. Their main topic of conversation seemed to be his Padawan. They told him he could come back anytime, though.

\- Come back… he left the healers, then?”, Ki-Adi-Mundi asked, voice full of disbelief, and Plo Koon sighed.

 _Of course he did, my friend. First, because he was_ Qui-Gon _’s Padawan. And then, because he has a Padawan of his own – and I really think this is too heavy a burden to place on Obi-Wan’s shoulders._

“Determined, he was. Bound by a promise.”, Yoda voiced.

“I think he bound himself. And that we let him”, Plo Koon answered, sadly.

“But he does not have to be alone”, Depa objected. “He is so _young_. Surely, we can help him –

\- Stop _babying_ him”, Eeth Koth growled. “He is a Knight, is he not? The Council deemed him worthy to be a Knight, and as such, to choose a Padawan – and a Knight cannot thread the Way if he keeps being coddled.

\- My dear friend…”, Ki-Adi-Mundi exclaimed. “I would hardly call this _coddling_. I agree with Master Plo. It seems to me we have been a bit remiss in allowing Kenobi to shoulder such a responsibility.

\- I am not sure we allowed it”, Mace answered, calmly. “We most certainly did not. But sometimes the ways of the Force are shaded, even to the keenest eyes. I thank you all for your thoughts and insight. I have spoken to Obi-Wan, earlier, and to his healers. He can be before us in half an hour. I suggest we all use this time to meditate, to call back the fight we witnessed in our minds, so as to stay as focused and precise as possible in our questions.”

_This is no trial. It is an investigation._

They all fell silent after these words, and Mace closed his eyes, withdrawing quietly into himself, joining the Force to recall the holographic images, playing them once more before his mind.

The _sai tok_ move was bad enough. But what troubled Mace was the way Obi-Wan had held himself in the Force afterwards. Wrapped in it, yet seemingly not feeling it. This could be due to Force exhaustion, of course, but something still did not seem right, and Windu was determined to find out what.

The half hour passed very quickly, and ere soon, Obi-Wan stood before them.

If anything, Kenobi looked neat. He had dressed carefully, in ironed clothes and a clean Jedi cloak. His worn boots were polished to a fault, and so was his leather belt, where Qui-Gon’s lightsaber was clipped. Obi-Wan’s short hair was not dusty and sweaty anymore, and the bruise on his temple had faded to a green-yellow smudge.

He held himself very straight, and his bow to the Council was perfect. But no Jedi cloak, no carefully ironed tunic could conceal how pale his face still was – yet Obi-Wan’s features _looked_ calm and composed.

 _Shields are up_ , Eeth Koth growled through their Bond.

 _Very tightly woven_ , confirmed Saesee Tiin, always very silent – yet he was their true expert of mind-reading. _I am not sure he is quite aware of it, though. It seems to me that he is… clamping down. Yet on what, I do not know._

“Masters.”

Obi-Wan’s quiet voice broke the silence, and Mace bowed his head briefly in acknowledgment.

“How do your wounds fare?”

A thin frown crossed Obi-Wan’s brow, and the Council could feel him assessing his body, as if he had just remembered he _had_ one.

“Mended, Master.”

Windu could almost _hear_ Eeth Koth’s silent snort and feel Yoda’s mute shake of the head. _Mended_ was certainly not the word he would have used, but he let it slide for now, addressing the matter at hand directly.

“You are aware of why we asked you to come before us?

\- Yes, Master”, Obi-Wan’s tone was steady, grey eyes looking up to meet Windu’s. “I have yet to report of… my Master’s fight against the Sith warrior. And mine. I… know you have seen the holograms. But they cannot give away thoughts or – feelings. There might be… clues I have missed.

\- You did not miss your aim, though”, Mace replied, somewhat coldly, because someone _had_ to, and he watched Obi-Wan’s eyes cloud, for a moment, before turning to the ground in silent shame.

 _Shields are even tighter_ , Saesee warned. _Don’t make him bolt, Mace. There’s much pain, much fear in him still_.

“Obi-Wan, we are not here to condemn you”, Adi Gallia voiced, softly. “We were not there with you. And we, too, failed to read some signs.”

Obi-Wan blinked, once, and then he lifted his face.

“I am ready, Masters.”

 _Bow and never bend, our little reed does_ , Yoda voiced softly through the Council bond, and Mace almost raised an eyebrow at such a strange comment. Instead, however, he proceeded.

“We can do this in different ways. You can either tell us what you remember, or you can let us lead you into a memory trance.”

 _And make you relive almost everything_ – he did not say it aloud, but Obi-Wan had been on enough briefing reports and had seen Qui-Gon undergo the procedures several times to know what this was truly about.

His thin hands curled protectively, disappearing into the sleeves of the clean brown robe. But this was Obi-Wan’s only admission of fear.

“Masters… The memory trance might prove more effective.”

Mace nodded, and looked at Depa, who bowed her head slightly and placed her hands on her knees.

“Obi-Wan?”, her warm voice called, and the young Jedi turned towards her.

She looked at him, gently, projecting warmth and care, eyes trained on his face, breathing very calmly. And slowly, very slowly, they watched Obi-Wan’s hands uncurl as their gazes locked.

“What do I… need to do?”

His voice was slightly slurred now, his stance laxer, fingers brushing against his thighs, shoulders narrowing as they lost their squareness.

“Nothing, Obi-Wan. You just look at me. You breathe with me.”

_You are safe with me._

“What if… I fall?” – Obi-Wan was still resisting the pull, but he was blinking now, words coming out very heavily.

_I will hold you up, Obi-Wan. You will not fall, I promise._

“Will I… remember?”

_Yes. You will. You will stay with us all the way long. You will just reach deeper. And you will not need to tell us anything you do not want to._

He exhaled, slowly, and then his eyes anchored themselves to Depa’s, his body still and permissive, even though, of course, there would still be no way for her to breech his shields using their link.

_Now, Obi-Wan, breathe with me and think… Think of a place you love, a place where you like to take refuge, and find safety…_

His thin, pale face frowned, slightly, another breath leaving Obi-Wan’s body, and for a while, nothing came from the young Jedi – no word, only quiet exhales. Depa was watching his face in silence, and Mace felt her distress along with the whole Council when a tear fell slowly along his cheek.

“Where are you…?”

There was such sorrow, in that cracked question.

“I cannot feel you…”

Depa reacted quickly, hands gently reaching out for his through the Force.

_Right here. Around you. In you. With you._

She repeated the soft mantra, on and on, and they watched Obi-Wan reach for his face, sluggishly, wiping his cheek, and falling back to his permissive, half-asleep stage.

_Right here. Around you. In you. With you. Right here, where you are safe. Around you, where nothing will harm you. In you, where there is only peace. With you, because you are never alone in the Force._

“And now, Obi-Wan…”, Depa voiced, very quietly. “Now, do you think you can go back to Naboo? To the hangar, where your plane landed you, along with the Queen, Qui-Gon and Anakin…?

\- Yes.” – the frown was back on Obi-Wan’s face, along with thin lines of pain.

“It did not work…”, he said softly, very sadly.

“Can you tell us why?”, Depa asked, her voice still gentle and even.

“We had a fight. About Anakin. About the Council… you… not wanting to train him. Qui-Gon was furious. And he pushed me away.”

 _Not getting anywhere_ , Eeth growled through the Council bond, and Obi-Wan had a violent start, causing Depa to extend her hands soothingly once more.

_Keep telling me, Obi-Wan._

“No, I… don’t want to talk about this.”

Obi-Wan’s breathing had picked up, fists curling again at his sides. There was sweat beading on his brow as well, and Mace felt Depa’s worry.

_Remember. Around you. In you. With you…_

“No. No. There is no one. And he’s waiting. Stop it. Stop it, stop it…”

She relented instantly, eyes still searching for his, and pulled him softly towards consciousness again. Obi-Wan came to with a small gasp, arms flailing, and he would have fallen but for Depa’s gentle Force-hold on him, waiting for him to steady.

“I’m sorry…”, he whispered. “We did not get very far, did we…?

\- You did very well”, Depa said, releasing him from her grip, hands still hovering before her.

And through their old Master and Apprentice bond, Mace was the only one able to feel her utter _displeasure_ at Eeth, until she released it gently in the Force like the true Master she had become.

“Obi-Wan.”

Plo Koon’s deep, muffled voice rose from his side of the room.

“I think you will find your memory quite _effective_ \- if you still are up to it. For my part, I would feel more comfortable if we could truly talk to you.

\- As would I”, Ki-Adi-Mundi supplied.

Slowly, very slowly, Obi-Wan’s body relaxed – it was then and only then Mace realised how utterly _terrified_ he had been to submit himself to the memory trance, and to lose his awareness. Sweat was still drenching his brow, and his eyes were glassy.

And Mace suddenly felt like a brute – and released this horrific thought into the Force before anyone in the Council could sense it.

Anyone save Adi Gallia of course – that woman had always been _perceptive_.

“Obi-Wan, you do not have to do this today. If it is too soon…

\- No.”

The word, though whispered, was adamant, and Obi-Wan squared his shoulders once more.

“No. Every day we lose is a day where the thread grows colder.”

His voice cracked and they realised how dry his throat was. With a graceful flicker of her wrist, Adi Gallia summoned a glass, filling it with water. And then that incredible woman broke all the Jedi Council rules and _stood up_ , crossing the room, placing the glass gently into Obi-Wan’s hand, folding his fingers around it.

_There is always someone, Obi-Wan._

He was too stunned, too shaken to do anything but thank her, staring up at her, eyes wide and still so grey.

“I think you should sit down. No one can stand forever, and your tale is a long and difficult one.

\- Y-yes, Master Gallia.”

She tilted her brow, and then she turned and walked back to her chair. Mace just flicked an eyebrow and Adi Gallia raised her chin.

_\- Don’t provoke me, Master Windu._

_\- I would not dream of it, Master Gallia._

_\- If you two are quite finished, I think we should proceed._

Plo Koon’s dry voice was dripping with sarcasm and pulled them back to the matter at hand. Obi-Wan had knelt and taken a sip of water, oblivious to their joust. He was clearly centring himself, and for the first time, Mace felt his shy use of the Force and breathed out in relief.

This time, Obi-Wan did not look up. He spoke with eyes riveted to the floor, fingers splayed on his knees, gripping the worn fabric whenever he needed to ground himself, shields still fiercely up but voice soft.

“He was waiting for us. When we arrived on Naboo. When we tried to get past the doors with Queen Amidala, he was already there, waiting for us. He was hooded, at the beginning, but the he showed his face. And he _told_ us, too, through the Force, as he unhooded himself. His name is… _was_ … Darth Maul. And he was proud of it.”

Obi-Wan’s thumb ran along his knee, in a small, unconscious move.

“I had not seen him well, on Tatooine. He looked tall, and dark, and red, from afar. And there, on Naboo… I could see he was a Zabrak. A male. And he was not as tall as I thought – about my size, maybe even smaller. Red and black tattoos on his face. And red eyes. Full of hate.”

They could not see Obi-Wan’s face. They could only guess his horror, and his fear – there was no feeling getting past his shields, not anymore.

“On Tatooine, he had only used one blade. Like we would. On Naboo, he switched on both sides of his lightsaber. He was holding it in the middle, and I have never, _ever_ , seen anyone fight like that.”

Dread, distaste, but also a skewed sense of admiration briefly coloured Obi-Wan’s words – Mace looked up at Saesee Tiin, and the Jedi Master nodded.

_They have bonded, somehow, in their fight. He senses it as well._

“He put us both to shame. Me first, but Qui-Gon also. I could feel it. I could even see it. Ataru… Ataru was useless against him. He had his middle shielded. He could fight us both, dividing us while protecting himself. And he led us exactly where he wanted us.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers tightened painfully against his knee.

“He was young. Maybe my age. Maybe a bit older. Not younger, though, this I am sure of, because he… He _spoke_ to me, as we fought. And he kept sneering. _Try again, little one. Lost your Master, little Jedi_ …?”

His voice cracked, then, and for a while, he could not speak.

“You cannot see it, in the holograms. But he was in my head _all the time_. Every second we faced each other. And I do not know how, but… he could feel what was going on, _inside me_. Whenever I tried to…”

White fingers clasped the rough fabric, twisting it into knots.

“Whenever I tried to reach out for Qui-Gon, there he was”, he whispered. “He… he wedged himself into our _bond_. He _frayed_ it. And I think that is what he wanted. To separate us even more, to fight Qui-Gon alone.”

 _So this is why the Sith managed to Force-push him down the gateway_ , Windu mused through the Council bond. 

_And why he was so stunned_ , Plo Koon added.

“And Qui-Gon let him. He did not wait. He did not look back at me, not once. He could have stalled, on the gateway – he had him on open ground, the one area where Ataru could still have worked. But I think he… I think he was afraid for me. I think he wanted that Sith off me. Because of what he was doing to me. I think he… he sensed that I was too… too weak to fight him off our bond. And so he… followed him. Away from me.”

Obi-Wan had begun to cry, quietly. His shoulders shook, silently – yet though his body looked even frailer kneeling on the ground, though they could have chided him for these tears, the entire Council sat daunted.

 _There is no Darkness in this one_ , Saesee Tinn voiced, quietly. _There is only boundless love. Except towards himself._

 _But this, my friend, is Darkness too_ , Mace replied – and almost fell from his chair at Eeth Koth’s reply.

Eeth Koth, of _all_ people.

_And what would we know of Darkness, when none of us has faced it like this young one has? That Sith filth clearly knew where to dig…_

“You dragged yourself up, and ran after them, young one”, the rough Zabrak Jedi Master rumbled. “I do not call that weak.

\- I was not fast enough”, Obi-Wan whispered, brokenly. “I was trapped behind him. I could not get past the shields, _twice_. And – and in the end, I had to – I had to watch him _die_. He got hit in the head. And stabbed in the chest. And I could… only… watch.”

His breathing had picked up again, and Depa gently reached out once more, sending soothing, healing waves through the Force.

She was not the only one, though. Through the Council bond, Mace could feel them, the stars of their constellation – the quiet ones, the fierce ones, the bright ones, the scorching and the comforting ones.

 _My hand carding through your hair_ – Adi Gallia.

 _My arm around your shoulders_ – Plo Koon.

 _My breath to guide yours_ – Ki-Adi-Mundi.

 _Little brooklet. Slender reed. Not your fault this is_ – Yoda.

 _No more tears, young one_ – Eeth Koth.

 _Forgive yourself_ – Depa.

Himself said nothing, only watched Obi-Wan slowly calm down once more, unable to pick up their words, but clearly sensing their wish to soothe him through the Force.

“I… am sorry”, he whispered. “I did not mean to…”

He was still looking at the floor, and through his shields, they could feel intense sorrow, pain and shame, slowly seeping through.

“I felt so much anger”, he let out. “I felt like he had stabbed through my heart. I… Masters, I wanted him dead. I wanted his middle broken, once and for all.

\- And he wanted you to feel exactly this”, Mace answered, quietly.

“Yes”, Obi-Wan voiced. “He was _leering_. Exulting. My moves got angry and angrier, and it was only feeding his strength. He kept challenging me. Telling me to get him, gut him, reach out for him, and I wanted this _so badly_.”

He shuddered, fingers gripping his knee again.

“I only felt _some_ fear from him when I broke one of his blades. Then he pushed me down the generator and threw my lightsaber down the shaft. And – that is when he talked to me. He told me I could reach out to him. That he could show me a better way, where anger did not need to be frowned upon, but could serve as a righteous fuel…”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

“I wanted him dead. I wanted him out of my head. But – Masters, above everything… I wanted to reach Qui-Gon. I could still feel him. He was still there. And he was bleeding out and I… I could not bear it. I did not care for… anger or… power. I just wanted…”

His voice cracked, and then, finally, Obi-Wan lifted his face. It was ghastly pale, sweat running in rivulets along his temple, making the strands there look almost dark.

“There was only this one way. I could try to summon Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, lift myself up and then jump _behind_ him. He would have his blade still lifted. And past that one stunned second, he would strike back. So I… knew. Before I took my jump. I knew I would kill him. And I knew it would be - could only be _sai tok_. To get through his middle. Remove him from Qui-Gon’s side.

\- And so you struck him down”, Mace voiced, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“I struck him down.”

Obi-Wan’s lips were white now, sweat drenching his chest, darkening the light fabric – and once more, Mace felt like a heartless brute. But this was the Jedi Council, and one of them had to show firmness, so that no one would err and get lost threading the Way.

“The move is forbidden, as you so well know.

\- Yes, Master”, Obi-Wan’s voice was toneless.

“And why is that, Obi-Wan Kenobi?

\- Because it is butchery, not fencing. Because it is cruel. Because it kills.”

_Mace, cut him some slack._

Adi Gallia and Eeth Koth had spoken the same words at the exact same time – and it left the whole Council blinking. It seemed Kenobi had achieved even _this_ – perfect unison of two opposite minds. Even though it was at Mace’s expense.

“Do you think this is a fitting example for your Padawan?”

He was only throwing those words at Obi-Wan out of principle – because he had to, because it was part of the rules. He never expected the young Jedi’s face to lose even _more_ colour, and panic to blossom in his already haunted eyes.

“No, Master. I… I…

\- How do you suggest we could proceed, then?

\- I… I…”

_FORCE, MACE!_

Adi Gallia positively _slammed_ through the Council bound, voice like a fist crashing down – and Mace could feel her fury. Before he could try to answer, though, Obi-Wan whispered:

“Soresu. I won’t use Ataru, anymore. Only in dire need. I will stay in the middle, and never seek to break it anymore… And I will tell Anakin why, whenever he asks me about it.”

The silence in the room was palpable, and Mace felt a shiver of awe run through his spine.

“I can leave you Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, if you wish. I can train with wooden sticks, once more. Just like my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan looked ready to keel over, but he still summoned enough strength to rivet his eyes to Windu’s – and in that clear gaze, where nothing was left except absolute exhaustion, Mace still found only Light.

Light that, unlike his, did not scorch.

“Rise, Knight Kenobi”, he said, voice gentle for the first time since the beginning of the Council. “And be thanked for your honesty, your insight and your unending courage. You will be a wise and humble Master. Keep that lightsaber, until you have no need of it anymore.”

Obi-Wan rose, slowly, almost in a daze. Gone was the neatness – in the afternoon’s light, he looked wrung out, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, eyes glazed over, trousers completely rumpled at the knees.

“Thank you, Master”, he whispered, almost automatically.

“One last question, before you go”, Mace said, softly. “Do not think, just answer me straight away.”

Not that Obi-Wan seemed able to process much, clearly moving on autopilot, swaying slightly on his spot.

“Did you face the Master, or the Apprentice?”

A cloud passed before the sun, flooding the room with sudden shadow. And Obi-Wan’s voice was faint, but adamant, and matched Mace’s expectations.

“The Apprentice, Master.”

His words left them all thoughtful, and they finally let Obi-Wan go, watching the young Jedi retreat through the doors. For a few heartbeats, they were all silent, trying to process everything that had just taken place.

And then Saesee Tiin frowned and straightened in his chair.

“Someone should go after him. _Quickly_.”

Plo Koon and Adi Gallia rose in one fluid move. And the too-warm sun flooded the room again, throwing blinding rays of light where Obi-Wan had knelt.

*******

Obi-Wan did not really know how he managed to leave the Council Room on his feet – what he _did_ remember, though, was that Qui-Gon and him had often used an incredibly convenient refresher that was just a few doors away.

He could still hear his Master’s amused voice, shoving him through the doors after another long and dusty trip leaving them both rumpled and dirty.

“Five minutes, Padawan. I have faith in your abilities.”

There was more than one sink – at least three. A wide mirror, and every facility a weary Jedi could dream of: soap, towels, and warm water. And Qui-Gon had smiled at Obi-Wan’s eager delight, always mocking him gently for his love of cleanliness.

Obi-Wan stumbled into the refresher, bracing himself on the sink, knuckles as white as the enamel he was clutching, and then he heaved up whatever was in his stomach, feeling his knees shake and his vision darken as he struggled to keep upright.

He retched, even when nothing could be brought up anymore – and when he could finally straighten up, he had to use the Force to switch the faucet on, because there was no strength left in his fingers.

The water run, roaring into Obi-Wan’s ears, and when he managed to look up, facing his image in the wide, shiny mirror, he met white, scared features with too-wide eyes and dark, sweaty hair.

 _You are not cast away_ – he tried to tell his small, sick, terrified self.

_They did not tell you to leave. They did not take your Padawan from you._

He retched again, helplessly, water still drumming against the sink.

 _They told you there is no Darkness within you_.

He did not know if he was retching or sobbing. It felt the same.

_He is dead, you are safe. He is dead, he is dead._

Only he was _not_ safe. Because, behind his ghastly face gazing back at him in the mirror, another appeared, dark and blurred and _he’s there he’s in the Temple where is Anakin oh Force let him be safe let him be safe…_

“Obi-Wan…”

_No no no no no…_

He could not pull his lightsaber, he had no strength in his nerveless fingers, but he could extend his hands and Force-push _him_ , away from him – and so Obi-Wan slammed his back against the sink and raised his hands – the water roared so loudly now, every faucet was on – push him away, he would push him away –

“Plo, guide him down. I’ll try to reach him.”

That voice was _female_. It did not fit – Obi-Wan blinked, trying to see through the dark veil that kept creeping back into his vision. Something warm wound itself around his back, resting on his waist, and he shivered – because he was wet and cold and it _hurt_.

“It is all right, Obi-Wan. You slammed your back rather violently against these sinks.”

Slowly, very slowly, Obi-Wan realised he was not standing anymore. He was lying down on tiles littered with broken glass, drenched in water. At least, his lower body was, the upper part was resting against a thin, warm body he recognised as Plo Koon’s, whose clawed hands were cradling him.

“What… happened?”

The weak sound leaving his lips was nothing but a croak. Soft fingers brushed his hair away, gently hovering over his face.

“Lie still, Obi-Wan. I need to close those nicks.”

He could feel small tingles of pain, on his cheeks and forehead, and he did not understand – but his vision finally focused, and he recognized Master Gallia, and her gentle Force brushes against his skin.

“There. All done”, she said, soothingly, and then she took his hands in his, carefully healing finger after finger.

“I… what happened… to the ‘fresher?”

Plo Koon’s arms moved, moving him to a more comfortable position against him, and Obi-Wan took the wasted room in - the broken mirror, the cracked sink leaking water on the ground…

“I am afraid we scared you”, the masked Master rasped. “You do have one _wicked_ Force-hook, young one…”

Obi-Wan shivered, and looked up at Adi Gallia, who was gently wiping his face with a clean rag.

“I did this?”, he asked tonelessly, and she folded the rag, placing it on his brow, keeping her hand on his forehead.

“I will fix this…”, she replied, soothingly.

And Obi-Wan found himself wishing that she did not only speak of the wasted room. But he was no boy anymore, and so he watched her slowly replace the sink against the wall, drawing back the glass shards against the mirror frame, and guiding the water back in the cubicles.

_Beautiful._

She turned towards him with a gentle smile, and Obi-Wan realised, belatedly, that he might have projected the word towards her. She just removed the rag, though, testing his forehead with the back of her hand.

“I was afraid you might be feverish. But I do not think so”, she said, kindly. “You _do_ need to rest, though. I am sure you did not eat or sleep nearly enough."

Plo Koon wrapped his arms around his waist and helped him sit up, quietly. Obi-Wan screwed his eyes shut as the room started spinning, but after a few breaths, blood seemed to rush back to his head and the confused, scared, _sick_ feeling began to subside.

“Take some water”, Adi Gallia suggested, and Plo Koon placed a clawed hand on Obi-Wan’s forearm.

“She keeps watering us all like plants”, he rumbled, affectionately.

And suddenly, Obi-Wan felt himself beginning to tremble. Because he had felt so alone, these past days, that he had almost forgotten what belonging and closeness could _sound_ like.

“Oh, young one…”, Plo Koon voiced, voice incredibly sad. “You are not alone. No matter how it might seem or feel.

\- Sometimes, I…”

Obi-Wan’s voice hitched. And Adi Gallia’s hand found his brow, gently stroking back his hair.

“Sometimes I think that I will never feel the Force again”, Obi-Wan whispered. “That I will only feel… _this_.”

Adi Gallia sighed, and Plo Koon’s hand gently brushed Obi-Wan’s arm.

“This is the Force as well, young one. But time passing, you will see that there is understanding and strength to be found even here.

\- You can always seek us out. You can always come and find us”, Adi Gallia added. “This is what we are here for, in the very first place.”

Obi-Wan nodded. And then, slowly, he pushed himself up, leaning once more against the sink. The mirror was slightly scratched – there were still a few glass shards clinging to his trousers and boots, and small specks of blood on his tunic. Master Gallia had healed every possible scratch, though, and even removed the ugly bruise clinging to his temple.

If he hurried back to his room, he could wash and change before Anakin came back from his classes – there was no need for his little Padawan to see him like this. Not when he was still reeling from being able to _keep_ him.

There was still Pain.

The face staring back at him was still worn, and pale – too-grey eyes in too-thin features; mussed, dark hair where his braid used to be. But this time, it was framed by Plo Koon’s masked figure and Adi Gallia’s graceful silhouette. Wrapping an arm around his waist. Holding his hand.

And Obi-Wan realised he was able to stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, first of all, I want to apologize to all Yaddle, Oppo Rancisis, Yarael Poof and Even Piell fans. They are, undoubtedly, amazing characters - they stayed, however, completely mute in my story because it was simply too much to have twelve Jedi Council members speaking. Also, because I confess that without research, being no Star Wars specialist, I was completely unaware of their existence, and decided to voice those I felt most comfortable with.
> 
> I also completely made up the fact that Ki-Adi-Mundi took Qui-Gon's seat in the Council (I thought it was convenient).
> 
> Then, I confess I made Master Windu look a bit heartless - actually because in the movies he always felt a bit cold to me. In the Clone Wars, he's really amazing though. In the end, I was inspired by our own university-team meetings, where we are eighteen staff members (me being a fiercely student-protective hothead like Adi Gallia) and where my chief always slips into the role of focusing us younglings back and embodying authority.
> 
> I wanted actually to write more Obi and Ani. But then I thought of my colleagues and of our residents (we are a medical university, and I'm a GP, with amazing GP residents, especially now in those difficult times). And they just... all melted into this chapter. So even though a fanfic site is really not the place, I just want to tell you that I have so many young Obi-Wans around me right now - and that sometimes I feel just like him. So I search for my Adi Gallia and my Plo Koon - they are not always the same, but we help each other to stand. This chapter is for all of them, with much love and admiration.
> 
> Next Friday, I will happily write Jocasta Nu (I can't waaaait !!) and give you the promised Obi and Ani interaction :). Please review if you feel like it, and thank you for reading me! Take care, much love, Meysun.


	4. Lineage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there everyone! Here comes Chapter Four, barely on time :-). This one took a lot of researches and has, once more, been a joy to write, even though there is still a fair bit of angst. I want, once more, to thank you all for your feedback that truly make my day whenever I get them, and thank you for taking the time to read this. I am well aware that my characters do not always act like Jedi, that their emotions may sometimes not ring true to you: this is just a fanfic where I'm having fun sharing my thoughts about characters I like, that have a lot of potential, it's not canon and never was meant to be :-).  
> I just want to give a big virtual hug to Siri_Kenobi12, whose story It Takes A Village is amazing and a continual inspiration. And big hugs as well to AssassinOfRome, doublenatural for their support, and all of you who read, reviewed and left kudos. You are all amazing!  
> Hope you enjoy this one, and as usual, more notes at the end. Take care, Meysun.

Years had slowly turned to decades in the Jedi Temple, yet the same question had seemed to reoccur like an endless mantra, from the mouths of innocent Initiates gazing up at her.

“Madame Nu… where is your lightsaber?” 

Sometimes the question would be silent and not that naive. Not all Jedi held their Consular colleagues in high esteem, holding firm to the belief that such a path was easier to achieve – for few were the candidates for a life dedicated to gathering knowledge and protecting it.

Madame Nu would meet such silent inquiries with a very uptight chin and impeccable, chilling manners. But Jocasta was always fond of young minds asking questions – and so, whoever the Padawan or the Initiate looking at her with concern, searching for a weapon at her belt, she would always allow her hand to meet the small shoulder, and her eyes to soften.

“Here, dear one”, she would say softly, pointing to her brow. “And all around you. For well-schooled minds and carefully honed knowledge are sharper, and sometimes deadlier than any weapon.”

Of course, Jocasta had her favourites. Those who would come to the Archives not only eager to fulfil their assignments or their homework - but would also tell her a bit about themselves. The Force was strong in the Jedi Archives, because of the Knowledge and Light gathered there, but only thrived with the minds and hearts living to absorb and to enhance it.

And to those eager little ones, whom she would assist in their research but also comfort, many a day, listening to their doubts and reassuring them, or sharing their joys with them – to those Jocasta whispered her little secret.

“I have a lightsaber though. You would not expect me to let all these treasures unguarded, would you?”

She smiled at those recollections, walking quietly between the aisles, thinking of the swift passing of time – her fellow Initiates were all Grandmasters now, their Padawans had students of their own… And she would not have it any other way, rejoicing in seeing her little ones become teachers of their own.

The morning was lovely, and everything was quiet. Shrouded. Not many Masters were at the Temple at this hour, and the Padawans had joined their classes or their training grounds.

The Archives were almost deserted – the Force only seemed to surround the tall pillars, caressing the shelves where the holobooks cast their cerulean light, surrounding the statues resting on their marble pedestals.

The light was playing gently on the marble tiles, flowing from the tall rosette and arch windows. Almost all the reader lamps were out, the seats were empty, the tables yet void of strewn data-pads, stylets and sheets of flimsiplast. A few Jedi were consulting the computers, but Jocasta had seen to their needs and felt no wish to disturb their research.

There was one, though, who had asked for details about the Trade Federation and a certain Nute Gunray – and also about the planet Iridonia. Jocasta Nu had made a principle of keeping discreet about the research conducted here and had not asked why. She had just brought him the data and left him to his studies.

But this one had been a very dear Initiate to her, an even dearer Padawan – and had become one of the youngest Temple Knights, whose first assignment had been to hand her the report of the events on Naboo and the battle of Theed. And to watch her write down, carefully and reverently, the name of Qui-Gon Jinn in the _Register of the Departed_.

He would always choose the same nook, on the upper hall, between high shelves and as close to the arch windows as he could get – Initiate Kenobi had loved to let his gaze roam over Coruscant, searching for wider horizons. Aiming for the sky. Padawan Kenobi had simply loved the quiet, to be surrounded by books and knowledge, breathing in their peace, his Force signature resonating with the place, silent yet steadfast.

But Knight Kenobi…

The first time she had seen him without his braid, standing quietly before her, she had struggled to recognise him. The face was still the same, somewhat boyish, making him look younger than he was. He had the same grey eyes, the same way of holding himself very upright, the same gentle moves – but though his words were soft, it had seemed to Jocasta that the boy she knew was not really _there_. Not really _seeing_ her. There was something fiercely buried deep inside him, and shields tightly woven around it – but there was also something _missing_. She could not really pinpoint it, and it both worried and irked her.

She had not wanted to press him, trying to give him some privacy – she _knew_ that the boy had always fled to the Archives when he wanted to avoid scrutiny, and some things never changed.

And if, this morning, she was making sure her round included the upper floors and that special nook of his, well – the Chief Librarian could hardly be at fault trying to ensure that all the research conducted here ran smoothly.

The silence upstairs was absolute. The morning light was soft, cascading through the rosette, drawing gentle rays on the shelves and the young Jedi’s face. It was currently resting on his folded arms, above a pile of data pads and flimsis covered in carefully written notes. His eyes were closed, cheek buried in the nook of his elbow, auburn hair like soft autumn pencil-brushes in the shrouded light.

Knight Kenobi was fast asleep, and Jocasta Nu was brought back, more than a decade ago, in softer and gentler times.

_The place was the same, but the evening was late already, and the rosette and arch windows were dimmed, light coming only from the holobooks shelves and reading lamps. Jocasta ever was a night owl, but in her older years she enjoyed evening hours in the Archives even more – Padawans behind their work were always grateful for a late access, and Jocasta always smiled at their frantic scribbles and their last-minute research. Because, lightsaber or not, Madame Nu was their hero then._

_The little one here was not behind his work, though. He had written all his assignments and done the research his Master had asked for… Such adoration, in his eyes, and such determination. Master Jinn had told him to stay in the Archives until the end of the Council meeting, had given him a few tasks and ordered him to keep up with his studies._

_And stay in the Archives Obi-Wan would – even while slumber rubbed at his eyes, even as the meeting seemed to drag on, and on. Even when he finally lost his battle against drowsiness, refusing to move from the place his Master had grounded him to._

_“There he is”, she had told Qui-Gon, and saw the stern Jedi Master’s face soften at the sight of his little Apprentice, frowning slightly in his sleep._

_“Well, Madame Nu…”, Qui-Gon had said, with a delicate, very private smile. “It seems I have committed myself to a little over-achiever.”_

_He had knelt next to Obi-Wan, gently unfolding his arms to wrap them around his neck, drawing his cloak around him._

_“Up we go, Padawan”, he whispered as Obi-Wan stirred, leaning his face against his shoulder._

_“How w’s th’meeting, Master…?_

_\- Shhh, Padawan. You just sleep.”_

_Qui-Gon’s large hand buried itself in the soft auburn tufts, and Obi-Wan frowned, hand moving towards the data pad and sheets. They lifted mid-air – and fell back gently against the table as the sleep suggestion claimed him._

_Qui-Gon smiled again, holding his Padawan with one arm, using his other hand to gather Obi-Wan’s things, and bowing to Jocasta._

_“Goodnight, Madame Nu. I need to put this little one to rest.”_

The Force sighed gently around her, and Jocasta came back to the present, and to the quiet boy sleeping here – because some things never changed. Treading carefully, she extended her hand towards the robe hanging on his chair, draping it around his shoulders, fingers brushing against his hair.

He did not stir, breathing quietly – this and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes telling her enough. Jocasta gently adjusted the robe and was about to withdraw when her eyes fell on a portion of Obi-Wan’s notes.

“ _Q. One: how did N.G. contact the S. master? NB: which means were used? Q. Two: how did the S. master know we were coming back to Naboo? NB: not the Jedi Council, not Anakin, not QG, not me, not the Queen – her suite? Someone close to her? Q. Three: why blockading Naboo of all planets? NB: planet highly dependant on import. Q. Four…”_

She could not decipher more – yet it was enough to fill her heart with both sorrow and pride. Kenobi would have made an _excellent_ Archivist, delving into facts and their logic with passion, yet she could feel how all these unresolved questions fed his restlessness. And she knew, then, that despite the neat handwriting and the carefully listed sentences, the boy was not at peace – only desperate to set things right.

“I would never have imagined finding you _prying_ , Jocasta.”

The deep, mellow baritone never failed to stir _something_ , deep in her. Jocasta moved one of Obi-Wan’s data-pads, covering his notes, and then she straightened and turned around.

“Careful now”, she voiced, eyes contradicting her stern tone. “Accusing the Chief Librarian to pry in those very rooms could hamper your ambitions.

\- Oh, but I know for a fact that the Chief Librarian is too upright to resort to something so base as _retaliation_.”

She smiled then, and so did he, dark eyes softening in a way reserved only for her, remembering her of wilder days long gone, yet still so very dear to her.

“Count Dooku”, she voiced, inclining her head, and he bowed, deeply.

“Madame Nu.”

With a small flick of the chin, he pointed to Obi-Wan’s table behind her.

“Actually, I was merely planning to enjoy the view and a few hours of quiet research. I found the nest occupied, however.”

His stern eyebrows made his eyes look even darker – she could detect the faintest hints of condemnation and contempt in his tone and was not surprised. Harsh, exacting Master Dooku probably labelled sleeping in the Archives _outrageous_ , with such Knowledge surrounding them.

“This place is for everyone”, she chided him gently. “Some are wearier than others and come here to put their minds at rest.

\- This one is not _weary_ ”, the Count said, dismissively. “He is afraid. Lost. Unable to face himself. And he has his peers to thank for that.”

Jocasta frowned, and her hand ghosted above Obi-Wan’s head, determined to keep him peacefully asleep. The boy needed it. And the Force around her _demanded_ it, flowing gently through her fingers.

“I do not recall such bitterness in you, dear Count. Would you care to elaborate?

\- Do I _need_ to, Jocasta?”

The proud dark eyes flashed, and in that vibrant dare, for the briefest second, she sensed pain, before it vanished through the Force. She sighed, then, carding her fingers gently through Obi-Wan’s hair, shaking her head at her own forgetfulness. Time had wrought so much havoc on that lineage that her mind had always coupled them in pairs. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon and Dooku. But they were more than pairs, and there was still pain.

“I am sorry for your loss, Dooku. And I am sorry both of you never found the way back to each other. But the young one here is not to blame. He came _afterwards_.

\- I know.”

Dooku’s voice was clipped, black eyes trained on Obi-Wan’s face.

“Qui-Gon ever was _headstrong_ ”, he murmured. “Always on the move, dragging them both from one corner to the Galaxy to the other. I expected this one here to turn completely _feral_ and have always been quite baffled to hear it is not so.

\- You should not underestimate your own teachings or doubt your former Padawan. Qui-Gon was wilful and stubborn, yes – but he shared your love of knowledge and was a very exacting Master. Besides, Obi-Wan may have more in common with you than you think.”

Dooku only raised an eyebrow, and Jocasta spoke on:

“He shares your love of research, your determination to get to the bottom of things. Your distaste for brash, unthought actions as well - your yearn for quietness and beauty. The gentleness and lack of pride is all his, though.”

Dooku had always enjoyed her jibes – far from angering him, her words made him smile and softened his face.

“My, my, Jocasta… _This_ is what I call feral. Scraping both Qui-Gon and myself. Well done, Madame Nu, and point taken.

\- I just… You could try to _help_ him, instead of throwing your spite at him.

\- Ah, but I cannot, Jocasta.”

Dooku’s voice was unusually soft – she could sense the same sadness that clouded his being whenever Serenno and his family were mentioned. The same firm will to cleave himself from it.

“I cannot help that soft, sweet boy you describe – him and me, we are too far apart. He is drowning in grief and guilt, where I would have him proud and confident. He defeated a _Sith_ , Jocasta. He showed skills in aggressive combat that should make the whole Council proud. He outperformed his own Master, the very Master that called him only _capable_ – you see, I have my sources… And what does the Council do? They chide him for using _sai tok_. They accuse him of killing the Sith when he should have brought him alive to them – them, who were not even able to _sense_ his very existence…”

She could feel the Force around Dooku quaking – he had ever been prone to bouts of anger and was also a Master in releasing it. It always felt like cold burns though, icy and sharp and painful.

“And what does Qui-Gon’s Padawan do? He _grieves_. He grieves for the Master he loved, even though it is forbidden. He bleeds into the Force, thinking he should have been the slain one, and _no one feels it_. He thinks he is unworthy because he used a forbidden move. And after all that, he berates himself for _feeling_ this, because the Jedi frown upon this as well. So no, Jocasta…”

And there the Count raised his dark, fierce eyes in defiance.

“I cannot help him. I do not have this meekness, this humility. I would only pull him further under. He is not ready to see his Master or the Jedi Order at fault. He cannot, because if he does, he would be terribly, horribly _alone_. And it would break him even more, because what this young one so desperately wants – what he yearns for, what makes him so loveable to you and so _unfathomable_ to me - is to belong somewhere and to be there for others.”

The stillness after that was deafening, and Jocasta found her throat too tight to speak. She knew that the Archivist and Chief Librarian in her should call these words blasphemy, that the Jedi she was should condemn every sentence. But Jocasta was also a woman, just as Dooku was a man – and they had both grappled with attachment long enough to see it as the permanent stumbling block in threading the Way.

And the woman in her, more than anyone, knew what these words meant.

“You came to say goodbye”, she whispered, finally. “You are leaving us.”

Her fingers searched for Obi-Wan’s shoulder, this time for support. Because his Force-signature, though hurt and dimmed, was still warm and comforting – because she was old when he was still so young. Because, if she held on to that, she would remember that she could be there for others as well - and let go.

Dooku looked at her for long, endless seconds, and then he bowed.

“I am indeed”, he said, voice somewhat rough. “I have… given it much thought. But this… I cannot abide by this anymore. This Order is obsolete and regressive. And the Republic is a vast void of bureaucracy and corruption hiding behind the Jedi, who are happy to blindly _die_ for it. And I cannot withstand this.”

He had ever been honest with her. He had hurt her more than anyone, yet Jocasta also knew his words for what they were – a mark of trust. Of friendship. Perhaps even of love, even though she had learned long ago to release such thoughts.

And so, Jocasta took a deep breath and straightened. She would not condemn him. She would not twist his words and comment them. Instead she would store them like a Holocron and remember them – as the Archivist she was.

“Then, my dear friend, if it is so and you are sure – know you will always be in my memories and thoughts.”

_May your passion and dedication lead you to peace._

“So will you”, Dooku said softly.

_Thank you, my dear, dearest friend._

He left her standing in the light, bowing deep and turning, steps withdrawing into silence. And Jocasta stared through the rosette, through the arch windows, at the sky that kept eluding them all.

“Madame Nu?”

The voice was gentle. The grey eyes clearly worried. And she realised Obi-Wan had woken, and that her hand was still on his shoulder. He had not shrugged her off and was gazing at her in concern.

“Are you… alright?”

She mentally shook herself and smiled at him.

“Yes, dear one. Never better. How about you? Did your research go well?”

He was still looking at her doubtfully but was kind enough to allow her to brush his concern aside. His short rest seemed to have refreshed him, and the sheepish look that brushed his face almost looked like _before_.

“Not really, no. I apologize, Madame Nu. I never meant to fall asleep here. _Again_.”

She smiled at him, then, and felt the tremendous hurt left by Dooku’s words lessen slowly.

“Oh no, dear one. That special place tends to have that effect on people. Or perhaps the holobooks around, they can be mischievous.”

She winked at him and saw the beginning of a smile graze his lips.

“You _do_ look peaky, dear one”, she added, watching him pull on his robe and gathering his things. “I hope you are not only living off flimsiplasts and data. They tend to nourish only the mind – _when_ they do.”

He had begun to withdraw at her words, but her last sentence pulled a soft laugh from him, warming Jocasta’s heart.

“Please take care of yourself, Madame Nu”, he said, earnestly. “We need you here, you know.”

His fingers tightened around the data pads and she could feel a strangled wave of sadness and longing surging through the Force, almost immediately stifled – but Jocasta knew the boy, and some things never changed.

“Well, here I am, dear one”, she answered, smiling at him. “And here I intend to stay, as long as I can.”

_You know where to find me._

He bowed, and they both went down the staircase in silence. A group of noisy Padawans had arrived, busting with questions and energy, and Madame Nu immediately sprang into action.

“What is the first rule here, young ones?”, she asked, sternly.

“To hush, Madame Nu”, a chorus of childish voices answered, obediently.

“Well, you better start now then”, she advised, her deadpan expression hiding her amusement. “This is a quiet place.”

When she lifted her eyes, she found Obi-Wan had already gone, withdrawing just as quietly as Dooku – she gently released that thought into the Force. And then she turned to the Padawans, hands on her hips, and arched her eyebrows.

“Well, young ones – how can I help you?”

*******

Obi-Wan placed the data-pads and flimsis on the low table next to the couch and moved to the window, drawing up the blinds to let the light in. And then he leant his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes.

He was getting nowhere.

There was no clue from the Sith Master anywhere, nothing about Maul in Iridonian data. Nute Gunray was ignorant of any relevant detail, claiming to have been contacted by the Sith Master without seeking him out.

And the worst was that, though an inquiry was made indeed, on Naboo and Coruscant, he was not part of the investigation – because he had been _involved_. Because the Jedi needed objective facts, not hunches or intuitions.

Obi-Wan could even see the logic and sense in this. It just made him feel so hollow. So useless. Like a tiny sheet of flimsiplast. And even those had multiple uses and could not be spared.

_Get a grip, Kenobi._

He sighed and pushed himself away from the window, eyeing their small quarters critically. Clean clothes had been brought by a droid, stashed in a bag close to the door. The floor had been hoovered and as usual, the cleaning droid had just picked up the random items Anakin had left on the ground, piling them on the couch.

Stylets, tightening nuts, screws, two mismatched socks and a Wupiupi coin – Obi-Wan gently shook his head, picking everything up, moving to the room that was now Anakin’s.

He had stripped it of all his things, as soon as he had left the healers – quickly and efficiently, like removing a plaster. He had taken a square box, and had carefully piled everything in it : his collection of journals, the few items he had brought back from their travels, his pencils and paintbrushes, the map pinned above his desk, his data-pads and his old Initiate belt.

He had taken down the framed painting from that time where their steps had taken him back to Stewjon – a study in green, displaying the soft curves of a grassy valley he confusedly remembered.

Qui-Gon had loved that painting, even though he would make sure not to stare openly at it, whenever his steps led him into Obi-Wan’s room – his Master had always respected boundaries. But Obi-Wan had not even _looked_ at it – he had just placed it next to the box containing his items in Qui-Gon’s room without gazing up, and he had closed the door.

Then he had moved to the wardrobe, emptying it of its items as well. It helped that they barely owned clothes of their own – he had quickly stashed them all in another box, save for the three robes he owned that would have to keep hanging there for a while.

He had brought that box into the living room, placing it next to the couch he slept in, and then he had given clearance to the cleaning droid. He had listened to its clinkering and tinkering for a while. And then Master Windu had commed him – summoning him before the Jedi Council.

That had been a week ago, and Anakin had moved well into his classes, and into his room. The first two nights had been difficult, the little boy struggling to adjust to his new settings, waking up in tears – and Obi-Wan could not help thinking that he must have _sensed_ his own anxieties and fears, somehow. He had worked hard on his shields, ever since, and gradually Anakin had settled, strewing his meagre possessions across the room, filling it with all the life and energy of a nine-year-old boy.

Obi-Wan carefully placed the screws and nuts on Anakin’s desk, along with the stylets. He opened the wardrobe and found the partner to each sock, shaking his head at the dirty, wrinkled items strewn on the floor – he _would_ have to show the laundry basket to Anakin once more.

The Wupiupi coin he placed on the bedside table, close to the necklace Anakin was not wearing anymore, but who had to stay close, no matter what. And then he straightened the small, star-shaped tooka doll on Anakin’s pillow.

“Hello there, Spikes”, he whispered. “Still determined not to meet soap?”

Anakin had been quite adamant about this. No washing, no bleaching or Spikes would drown. And since his lower lip had been very close to trembling, Obi-Wan had let it slide easily.

He had just left Anakin’s room and dumped the clothes in the laundry basket when the door opened, making room for his Padawan.

“Well, Anakin, how was your d-“

His speech caught as soon as he took Anakin’s face in and saw his red cheeks and too bright eyes. Anger and hurt were simmering from his Padawan, who dumped his bag on the floor and simply shoved past him, straight to his room.

“Anakin…”

_LEAVE – ME – ALONE!_

Anakin had positively shouted the words across their training bond and Obi-Wan flinched, but this was no way to handle things and he could not let it slide. So he followed his little Padawan to his room, watching Anakin kick the desk, the bed, then moving to the pillow, picking up Spikes and flinging him straight against the wall.

“Anakin!”

Obi-Wan bent, picking up the small doll, staring at his Padawan in shock.

“Can you please tell me what this is all about?”

This time a small sob escaped the little boy and Obi-Wan watched angry tears spill – still there was no word from Anakin, just hitched breathing as his Padawan moved, stomping towards him. He snatched Spikes from him with another strangled sound, and then his little hands placed themselves on Obi-Wan’s waist and shoved, pushing him towards the door.

He did not use the Force. He was not mastering it enough yet, but it felt the same – Obi-Wan could have resisted, but his Padawan was so _determined_ to push him away that he simply went along, stumbling backwards.

“Anakin, please…”

The fierce, _feral_ growl that escaped the little boy would have stunned even Master Windu, Obi-Wan was sure of it. Anakin shoved him, one last time, and then the door _slammed_ – this time with a nudge from the Force, and Obi-Wan heard the lock turn.

“Anakin!”

This time he shouted, slamming his hand against the door.

“Anakin, unlock the door immediately or _I swear I will_.”

He was surprised to hear the lock click, almost at once. And then he heard a banging sound, and realised Anakin had just thrown a forceful kick at the door.

Obi-Wan frowned at this, hand resting against the doorknob.

“Fine”, he thought. “Have it your way.”

He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, searching for their training bond – Anakin was projecting almost without shields, how difficult could it be? Obi-Wan immersed himself in his own mind, and almost immediately he found – he found…

 _This was not Anakin_.

This was a terrifying, cold, ragged cliff that should have been familiar, but was so foreign it hurt, and led to nothingness, only a dark chasm that made everything in Obi-Wan simply _break_.

This was pure, raw, unmasked _Pain_ – he could not even think, could not even feel, he could only take a few faltering steps, backing off Anakin’s door, bracing himself against the wall.

_I know that cliff._

He had a soft gasp, and slid down slowly on the ground, backed against the wall, pressing his forehead against his knees.

 _Pijal_.

It was not Pijal, not really. It was what the aftermath of the crash on Pijal had felt like, _inside_. He had felt so broken, so weak – teetering at the edge of that horrible cliff he hated, desperately searching for Qui-Gon, convinced he would never feel their bond again…

_This cliff…_

Obi-Wan drew a shuddering breath, feeling the now familiar nausea return tenfold, almost making him gag. But he placed his palms flat on the ground and grit his teeth – and then, with all he had in him, Obi-Wan shoved it all down, cliff, fear and Pain and all, in the furthest corner of his mind.

_That’s what our bond looks like, now. He is gone. Get a grip. Leave that cliff. Get. Yourself. Together._

He opened his eyes and found himself sitting on the ground, sweaty palms still firmly pressed against the floor. He felt dizzy. Weak. Vaguely ill, even. And it had felt like this whenever he had tried to immerse himself in the Force for something harder than reaching out with thoughts or lifting small things.

It felt like the axis holding him upright had vanished, leaving him spinning – unbalanced in a world he could not really recognise. Weightless. Bleeding.

_Then clamp down on it, for Force’s sake. Cut it from your consciousness._

He could do that. He had done it before, alone, in the healing halls. He had just made a mistake, searching straight for his own training bond that was no more, instead of the one he was trying to build with Anakin. It was going to be all right. He just had to clamp down on it. Clamp down on it and shove it deep down, where nothing, not even his own mind, would find it.

_No more cliff. No chasm. He left, taking that bridge with him. I can leave that place as well._

And gradually, painstakingly, Obi-Wan managed to come back. To their small, cramped quarters. To that floor where he was still seated. To his small Padawan and his fury and pain. Something had happened. Something had upset Anakin so much he was shoving him away. And as his Master he _had_ to find out what.

The commlink on his wrist beeped and Obi-Wan responded, still sitting on the ground, staring at Anakin’s closed door.

“Kenobi”, he let out, voice somewhat shredded.

“Obi-Wan, this is Master Ti. I wish to inform you of a little incident involving your Padawan. I think you will have to discuss that with him.

\- Yes, Master Ti. I am listening.”

Obi-Wan straightened, heart beginning to hammer in his chest. But as the one-sided conversation went on, alarm melted into worry and fierce protectiveness for his little Padawan.

“I understand”, he whispered. “I will speak with him. Thank you, Master Ti.”

_Oh, Anakin. Little one._

No sound was coming from his room. No kicks, no banging, no sobs. But Obi-Wan could feel Anakin was still there, probably slumped on the ground on the other side of the closed door. Weeping, if the quiet hurt seeping through their training bond was reliable.

And Obi-Wan suddenly realised that a large sheet of flimsiplast had been slid under the door, where two words were written in crude Aurebesh.

_KEEP OUT._

“I most certainly will not, little one”, Obi-Wan whispered.

He got up, then, grabbing his own stack of flimsi and a stylet. And then he tried to recall Tatooine. The twin suns. The small houses, and the dunes. They sprang before him in a few, careful lines, and when the small landscape was drawn, Obi-Wan carefully wrote down a single, deep-felt word.

HOME.

He walked quietly back, slipping the sheet under Anakin’s door, and then he went into the small kitchen, filling a kettle with water, setting it on the hotplate. He busied himself with washing up their breakfast cups and bowls and was just running a sponge on the table when he heard a soft noise behind him.

He did not turn, not wanting Anakin to shy away. But ere soon he felt something warm wrap itself around his right hip, hands sliding around his waist and a soft, sandy-haired head burying itself into his side.

“Hello there”, he said, softly.

And then he sat down on the kitchen bench and pulled his Padawan on his lap, allowing him to sob freely in his chest, resting his chin on Anakin’s head.

“I’m… so… stupid… Master”, Anakin coughed up between sobs, and Obi-Wan wrapped his arms tighter around him.

“No, you are not”, he said, firmly.

“I’m… behind… _everything_. I can’t… write. I can’t… read.

\- You are learning”, Obi-Wan answered. “And I know it is not easy. But I am so, so, proud of you.”

Anakin cried even harder at this, hot face pressed against Obi-Wan’s chest.

“They… made fun of me. They think I’m… slow. And they are all _younger_.

\- They do not know half of the things you have seen”, Obi-Wan said calmly. “They have grown here. Studied for years. And you already keep up with them after just a week.”

Anakin sniffed and let out a shuddering breath. And Obi-Wan raised his hand and ran his fingers through his hair, gently tugging at his Padawan braid.

“Why did they laugh, little one?”

Anakin sniffed again, and then he raised a hand, wiping his eyes, before leaning his face again against Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Master Ti asked us if there were any words we knew, in Aurebesh. Words we had seen, on posters, outside or in the Temple. Everyone was supposed to write down three. And then we all had to read them aloud.”

He sniffed again, cheeks hot and wet.

“I don’t know many words. But then I… I remembered the ones from home. So I wrote them down. And it made them all laugh, and Master Ti got all serious and stern, and then she wanted to talk to me, but I ran away. I’m sorry, Master. I just did not want to talk about it anymore.

\- What did you write down, Anakin?”, Obi-Wan asked softly.

He already knew, of course. But he wanted his little Padawan to tell him by himself. And Anakin drew his arms tighter around him and whispered:

“Keep out. Danger. No Slaves Allowed.”

And then his smart, little, wonderful Padawan started to weep again, quietly.

_I don’t belong here, Master._

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms as tightly as he could around the child, and then he projected all the calm and surety he had towards him.

_Of course you do. More than anyone. You help us open our eyes. You help us rejoice in everything we have been fortunate enough to be taught._

“I don’t know anything”, Anakin whispered, hoarsely.

“That is very untrue, Padawan”, Obi-Wan replied. “You know Basic, Huttese, and you could understand Artoo like no one. You already programmed the cleaning droid to avoid the places you don’t want him to meddle with. You can fly like no one I have ever met before, and I have been to many places. _And_ …

\- And?”, Anakin sniffed.

“And, little one, you know some of the most colourful swearing words I have _ever_ heard. I think even Dex would be impressed.

\- Who’s Dex?”, Anakin asked, leaning his cheek against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Dex is a friend”, Obi-Wan said softly. “He owns a diner, in downtown Coruscant. And he serves the best Jawa juice you can taste.

\- What’s he like?

\- He is a Besalisk, little one. Meaning he has four, strong arms. Meaning, also, that he gives the biggest, all-enwrapping _hugs_ in the Galaxy.”

Anakin pondered these words for a while, and then his arms tightened around Obi-Wan once more.

“I like _your_ hugs”, he whispered. “It doesn’t matter you only have two arms.

\- Thank you”, Obi-Wan mocked him, gently, and Anakin leant quietly against him, for a while.

“I’m sorry I shoved you, Master”, he whispered. “Sometimes, when I get angry, I… I want to yell and scream bad words. And I did not want to scream bad words at you. So I thought it better if I just… _made you go_.”

Obi-Wan stayed silent, for a while, and then he decided to follow his instincts.

“Anakin, you are my _Padawan_. And this means that, bad words or not, you should always come and talk to me. You do not have to explain everything. But you can tell me whenever you are angry and need to be alone. Because, if you don’t, I will worry about you and feel unable to help you.

\- And that makes you sad”, Anakin whispered, and Obi-Wan’s throat tightened.

“Well… It makes me feel _concerned_. And I think we should – we should really try to work on releasing your feelings and not keep them bottled up inside until they explode.

\- I know”, Anakin mumbled. “Did Master Ti yell _much_ , about me? I heard your comm’ ring. ‘m sorry, Master.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his back, then he placed his hands on Anakin’s shoulders and gently pried him loose so as to face him.

“Master Ti did not yell at all. She just told me what happened. She wanted to talk about it with you – she wanted to tell you there was nothing to be ashamed of. And to ask you if you would accept to tell the other Initiates where exactly you had read those words, so that they could learn something from you.

\- Really?”

Anakin’s eyes had grown wide, then something like shyness crept into his features, and he fiddled with the hem of his tunic.

“I don’t know if I’ll manage, Master”, he whispered, and Obi-Wan reached out for his short braid, pulling it back behind his ear.

“Well, you can think about it. The decision is yours, little one.”

The kettle whistled softly, and Obi-Wan moved, letting Anakin climb from his lap, gathering the tea things.

“Now, you should get under the shower. I will make some tea. And afterwards we can try to work on releasing feelings into the Force.”

The late afternoon found them both on the couch, empty teacups on the lower table. Anakin had slipped into his sleeping clothes, had climbed bare-footed next to Obi-Wan and lied down, head resting in his lap, Spikes firmly pressed against his chest.

The little boy was drowsy after so many emotions and his shower, and still in need of comfort only touch could give. So Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s forehead and the other below his chest, and breathed calmly, in and out, until Anakin’s heartbeats matched his.

_You remember what I taught you, about breathing in and out, trying to concentrate only on this, Padawan?_

“Yes, Master”, Anakin mumbled.

_Well, when I was a Padawan, sometimes I would get too anxious, too winded up to do even that. So I needed to find something to latch on, to anchor myself, before I could let go._

“I understand…”, Anakin whispered. “Breathing is boring anyway.”

_Sometimes it would seem so. That is why I found something else. I will try to show you, now. We will see if it works for you._

Obi-Wan’s hand left Anakin’s brow, and he switched on the little radio device, fingers turning the wheels until he found the right frequency.

“Old World music”, he said softly. “This channel here plays it continuously. Even though there are loops, and that you can often hear the same songs.”

Qui-Gon had encouraged it. Had understood it was Obi-Wan’s way to connect with the Cosmic Force and simply _belong_.

“You can just listen, Anakin. Think about how the music makes you feel. And then you try to gather these feelings, very carefully, and you make them join the music. And when the song is finished, when all is hushed, you will find out that they are still with you, but that they do not control you anymore. Because you will know them for what they are.”

The channel played only soft, introspective songs that worked well for trance-like states of mind, and as Obi-Wan switched the device on, they could hear a song ending, and another begin to play.

It was the same note, repeating itself like stuttering heartbeats for a few seconds, then the drums stepped in, and the bass, and then more etheric sounds Obi-Wan could not really place.

His hand was back on Anakin’s brow and he closed his eyes as well, finding himself breathe deeply and slowly _unwind_. His Padawan was completely still, entirely focused on what he was hearing – then the words chimed in and Obi-Wan could feel Anakin release a slow, deep breath.

**_‘Moonlight fades from my side - Sunshine, blinds my eyes…’_ **

_Home… He sings about_ home _…_

The wonder in his Padawan’s mind was absolute. And ere long, Obi-Wan felt Anakin slip completely from consciousness, immersing himself in the Force, in that song from another, long-forgotten world.

**_‘Moonlight stays in my sight - Darkness, fills my eyes…’_ **

Obi-Wan swallowed, hard.

**_‘Thoughts are running through my mind - Somewhere, we are free… Between waves, I take my breath…’_ **

He _was_. He was breathing.

**_‘Feel the rain won’t let go - No one knows…’_ **

_It’s okay, Master. You can be sad too…_

Dimly, very far away and through the Force, Obi-Wan heard those childish words of comfort. Felt tiny fingers search for his, clasping them.

**_‘Inside, we let go - our love grows.’_ **

Obi-Wan breathed out, carefully. Then, far away and through the Force, he entwined his fingers with Anakin’s. Clasping them back. Until the song ended.

And even afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well... That one was truly interesting to write, and I hope you enjoyed it. I confess I had to made a ton of research for that one, and that I completely fell in love with flimsiplast, a wonderful invention replacing paper, that was recyclable and also - used for hospital gowns! Just imagine if we had flimsiplast right now, life would be a lot simpler :o...
> 
> So, again, to make things clear : I know Dooku, Jocasta, Obi-Wan and Anakin may not ring true to what they are in the movies, and to you. However, it appears to be true that Dooku and Jocasta liked each other, that Dooku left the Jedi Order at this time or shortly afterwards, and we also know he never met Obi-Wan before Geonosis. That's why I chose to write it like this. I confess I do not know why Dooku and Qui-Gon fell out so that Obi-Wan never met him before. I guess it's open to our imagination.
> 
> About Pijal, I only know that during that mission, there was a plane crash responsible for Obi-Wan's supposed dislike of flying. It served me well and will probably continue to do so, and I can't say more :-).
> 
> And finally, the song in the end is real. It's "Between Waves" from The Album Leaf. Youtube played it for me in a random "you might like this" association - and I loved it so much I had to put it in this story. For me, it really fits with the moment in the story, and what we are currently living through.
> 
> Take care, stay safe and... till next Friday with... Luminara Unduli (probably). I can't wait to read your thoughts... Much love, Meysun.


	5. Plunges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there and happy Friday everyone! Hope you are well and that you are able to enjoy the week-end.
> 
> As usual, before everything, I want to thank all of you for reading and reviewing. The response to my last chapter blew me away. I have never experienced such feedback, I have cherished every review, and it makes me so happy I wish this story could never end. So thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> This chapter was interesting to write. You will recognize characters, but they will probably act differently than you are used to, because this story is not set in the Jedi Apprentice universe, but that we still need dear Obi-Wan to have some friends and former fellow-Initiates :). So brace yourself, sorry if I scratched some characters - but you know me now, I actually love them all. Even Mace. Even Dooku :).  
> Enjoy I hope, and take care, Meysun.

Luminara bowed to her pilot, thanking him one last time, then she crossed the tarmac lightly - small, measured steps taking her back to the Jedi Temple on hot, vibrant, steely Coruscant.

Her traditional hat kept her hair hidden, but Luminara could feel the heat on her brow, on her cheeks and within her chest. Or perhaps it was that strange, secret excitement that always gripped her when she found her way back to the Temple she called home.

Mirial was so cold. So dry. Its codes were severe, its rules secular – a pillar strengthening all Mirialians, including the Jedi among them. They were careful not to get attached, of course, but the Temple understood their sense of duty allowing them to train Padawans among their own species, and occasionally to come back for important celebrations.

This time, it had been Luminara’s completion of her Trials, and first mission alone. Mirial had honoured her – in its stern, official way. Now, however, the time had come to go back to the Temple and get adjusted to her new stage, as a Knight treading the Way.

And Luminara was rejoicing. Thanking the Force quietly, for its Light and its unending support. For the beautiful bond she had been able to share for many years with her Master, and who had been closed quietly – saying goodbye to the one who trained her, welcoming her as a friend.

They had prayed to the Force together. And now it was Luminara’s turn to explore the world and the Way alone, serving as a Jedi in everlasting compassion.

_I thank Thee, for to Thee I belong._

And though Mirial flowed through her very veins, in the calm and cool way she carried herself, and in the small tattoo on her chin, Luminara could not help marvelling at the soft, joyful warmth blossoming in her heart finding herself back on Coruscant.

She longed for the cool, calm alleys of the Temple. For a quiet evening, enjoying Master Windu’s conversation. For the beautiful room of Thousand Fountains. And for the Balance she found on the training grounds, immersing herself deeper and deeper into Soresu.

She crossed the Temple in quiet joy, bowing to the Masters, smiling to the Initiates. She took a moment to refresh herself in her quarters, where she still felt a faint sense of her Master, whose calm and serenity had permeated the very walls.

_I will always be with Thee. Now go, my Padawan, and become a Knight._

She wanted to release her gratitude into the Force. Imbue those walls with thankfulness in return. And so Luminara searched for one of the Meditation rooms, and sat down cross-legged on one of the cushions, closing her eyes.

_Force I thank Thee. I belong to Thee. I am part of Thee. For everything I have been given, I want to give thanks in return. Thou made me a child of the Light. May Thou allow me to harbour Light and pass it on to others._

She lost herself entirely in her meditation and into the Force – when Luminara finally opened her eyes the afternoon was late, and the room flooded with the crimson of the setting sun.

And a tall, dreaded Kiffar was facing her upside down, in a one-handed handstand, smiling at her behind yellow tattoos, right hand gracefully extended towards her.

“Howdy, Nara…

\- Quinlan.”

Luminara quietly shook her head but could not hide her amused smile. Quinlan Vos _was_ , and would always be a _handful_ – his jokes and innuendos could be _very_ tiresome – but he was also a friend and a former fellow-Initiate.

And a Jedi she had learned to respect, despite his often-devious ways and his irritating smile.

“Come on, Nara, admit it. You _are_ glad to see me.

\- Delirious”, Luminara answered, and Vos gracefully broke his handstand, sitting down in front of her, grin even wider.

“Well, _I_ have missed you. And I can’t wait to hear what you have been about.”

She gently tilted her head, night-blue eyes searching for his brown gaze.

“Why do I sense that you rather cannot wait to tell me what _you_ have been about…?

\- Nara, Nara, Nara… Perhaps I should consider taking you with me – what with you reading me like an open book…

\- Quinlan, you _are_ an open book.

\- And you, dear Nara, are a quiet little fountain.”

She raised an eyebrow – and then Luminara allowed the feeling of warmth and happiness to spread in her chest and laughed, quietly.

“It is, however, very good to see you, Quinlan.”

He extended his hand, once more, and this time, Luminara placed her fingers into his.

“Kit is here too”, Vos said, gently squeezing her hand. “ _Do_ let us celebrate you have become the first Unduli Knight in Temple history. And none of your stern Mirialian traditions. We do this the Kiffar-Nautolan way.

\- Which would be?”, Luminara asked, pointedly, but her eyes were soft.

“Sharing very good beverage, and even better stories.”

And so, evening found them all in Luminara’s small living room, Kit Fisto comfortably seated on her couch, Quinlan on the carpet and her sitting cross-legged on a cushion, smiling at her friends.

They had filled plates with choice bits from the canteen; Quinlan had just opened a bottle of Toniray and was pouring it carefully in tall, slim flutes.

“Where did you come by those, Quin?”, Kit questioned, shiny black eyes sparkling in amusement. “They look far too refined for your big paws.

\- Master Tholme’s cupboard.

\- He actually _lets_ you near his things?”, Kit laughed.

“What Master Tholme knows not, disturb his balance it cannot”, Quinlan voiced, in a very bad impersonation of Master Yoda.

“Besides”, Vos added, “it is for Nara. He always had a soft spot for her.

\- Everybody has a soft spot for you, Luminara”, Fisto smiled, gently. “Even Master Windu always seems to smile when you are around.

\- That is because his Master was from Mirial”, she answered, light-green cheeks turning to emerald.

“No, that’s because you are a wonderful, brave, skilled – and above all very, very _disciplined_ Jedi, Knight Unduli. And here’s to your Trials, to your first mission, and to your return among us!”

They toasted, delicate glasses meeting with a crystalline sound – and Luminara allowed the rich, mellow beverage to flood her with warmth.

“Thank you, my dear friends”, she voiced, closing her eyes, feeling the Toniray spread from her chest to her fingertips.

“Told you she’d love this one. Very refined. Yet strong.”

Kit placed his glass on the table and through the Force, Luminara felt him squeeze her arm affectionately.

“And what have you both been about?”, Luminara asked, calmly, setting down her glass on the ground beside her.

“Well, my dear Luminara, _I_ have been at the Jedi Temple witnessing quite a commotion, and this one here…

\- … was right where the commotion started”, Quinlan stated proudly.

“As you might well have imagined”, supplied Kit – but Luminara did not pick up on his joke, and just took another slow, careful sip of wine.

“I _did_ sense a disturbance in the Force”, she admitted, thin eyebrows frowning. “Something like… a rippling wave. But…

\- A wave, Nara? A bombshell!”, Quinlan cried out. “Have you heard nothing on Mirial?! The Jedi Temple is completely upside down with that dead Sith struck down on Naboo…”

Luminara blinked, setting her glass down, heart hammering wildly in her chest. As a true Mirialian who worshipped the Force, it always unsettled her when the Dark words were used. And Quinlan _knew_ this.

“This… is not one of your jokes, Quinlan?”, she asked, voice still composed.

“I would not dare…”, her friend replied, looking her straight in the eye.

“Then would you mind enlightening me? Both of you? How come I am ignorant of… all _this_?

\- Because the Council is still reeling”, Quinlan answered with a small grin – he was definitely _not_ a great supporter of their rules, and she could sense his pride at being so well informed.

“Our dear _friend_ Kenobi caused quite an uproar there…

\- Quinlan, you…” – this time, Luminara allowed her eyes to express _some_ exasperation – “You cannot go on like this, telling a story by bits that do not make _any sense_. I do not understand a word! I thought you were missioned on Tatooine. And Obi-Wan left for Naboo with Master Jinn.

\- Precisely!

\- Nara, do let that ignorant fool of a Kiffar get a bit more inebriated, and allow me to fill you in”, Kit threw in, ignoring Quinlan’s splutter of protest.

“You do remember well. Obi-Wan left with Master Jinn to meet the Trade Federation, that was currently blockading Naboo, a very dependant planet as you might recall. They were initially to negotiate with the Trade Federation, but instead, they were attacked and had to flee on Naboo. You can read every specific detail in the Archive report, but long story short: they managed to meet the Naboo Queen and helped her escape the planet. Unfortunately, their ship was damaged – and they had to land on the sandy rock called Tatooine, where our friend steps in.

\- Did you _finish_?”, Quinlan asked, tone somewhat annoyed. “I happened to be on undercover mission there. There are lots of illegal bets in Mos Espa, and many cheats going on, all revolving around a Dug named Sebulba – who apparently runs quite a little traffic that very much interests the Dug Council of Malastare.”

He helped himself to a morsel of fried bread.

“Imagine my surprise when, one day before the Boonta Eve Classic, I recognised _Master Qui-Gon Jinn_ in the crowd. And my even greater surprise when I realized he was not shadowed by our dear _I’m-a-model-Padawan-and-will-worship-your-robe_ Kenobi…

\- Quinlan, why must you always hack down on him?”, Luminara asked, the delicious and spicy Toniray loosening her tongue somewhat.

Vos just grinned.

“Because something _in him_ just puts me _on edge_.

\- You’re just jealous he got trained by Maverick Jinn, and not you”, Kit teased – and Quinlan huffed, haughtily.

“I’m not. He just _bores_ me to death. Not a stain on his clothes, never a word above another, not an _ounce_ of creativity in his sparring – that guy only seeks to be Jinn’s Ataru-clone, it would seem… And meanwhile Jinn can do whatever he wants with him, and he’ll still worship the very clothes he sleeps in.

\- Quinlan!” Kit threw in, somewhat sharply. “Need I remind you that Master Jinn passed and returned to the Force _only two weeks ago_?”

This time Luminara let out a soft gasp, sadness and shock gripping her heart like an icy hand, before she managed to release them slowly into the Force.

“Master Jinn…?”, she voiced, tonelessly. “But – how…? And… Obi-Wan?

\- He lives, Nara. He lives”, Kit soothed her, reaching once more for her arm through the Force. “He was the one…

\- Oh no no no, you don’t get to just ruin the story like that.”, Quinlan threw in. “Rest assured, Nara, Obi-Wan is alive and…

\- And _well_? Is this what you were about to say?”, Luminara asked, incredulously. “Quinlan, Master Qui-Gon was half of Obi-Wan’s _mind and soul!_

\- I was going to say _on Coruscant_ , but since you are so determined to champion him, please, go on...”, Quinlan said calmly, taking a sip of wine.

Luminara breathed out, slowly.

“Sometimes, Quin, I do not understand you. I do not understand why you play this… this act. Why you pretend to be careless and unmoved and cynical. Obi-Wan is a friend. He’s _my_ friend. We have known him ever since the crèche. And Master Jinn _may_ have been hard and exacting enough to change something in him, our paths _may_ have crossed only rarely these past years, but I _know_ you care for him too. So do not… _belittle_ him or yourself like that.”

Silence fell in the living room, and then Kit Fisto smiled, gently.

“Where would we be without you, Luminara? You’re the true conscience among us, and always will be.”

He extended a hand towards Quinlan who was uncharacteristically quiet, and the other towards her.

“Still Green?”, he voiced, softly.

And Luminara and Quinlan took his hands, linking their own together.

“Still Green”, they both replied, and the Force around them quietened at last, even around Quinlan whose fingers were quaking lightly.

But then, Quin had always been the most sensitive among them, hiding it carefully behind larkishness and defiance.

“I am not angry, Quin”, Luminara voiced, softly, sensing her friend’s distress. “I just… you cannot make people act the way you want them to. And I _know_ you were not jealous, about Obi-Wan and Master Jinn. I know you thought yourself better armed than him, but you must not fight the ways of the Force. It wanted them to be together, even though it might have hurt sometimes.

\- He hurt _him_. He made him someone _different_. He just moulded him and _trampled_ down on him whenever it suited him, Luminara. And Obi-Wan did not even reply.”

She sighed, then, and Kit squeezed their hands, before letting go. Quinlan had always been of the _exclusive_ type, and their childhood friendships had been full of rocky moments. Obi-Wan and her had been the quiet, calmer ones while Kit and Quinlan had always seemed to burst with energy, but Quin and Obi had been opposite poles of the same current, Obi somehow always managing to calming him down, allowing Quin to latch on him, crawl into his bunk or even taking his anger out in long, hot duels.

It had been childish, all-encompassing, desperate one-sided _love_. Because, even though the Force flooded through them, sometimes they had simply felt so _lonely_.

That had been before their Apprenticeship began. She had been chosen first, it had felt natural and obvious, her being the only Mirialian Initiate at those times. Kit had followed shortly after, but Quin and Obi had struggled longer. It had made Quin hotter, brasher – and had allowed anxiety to pool around Obi-Wan’s calm waters.

She still remembered Quin’s utter _fury_ when he had realised that Obi-Wan had chosen a blue crystal for his Initiate lightsaber. They had all picked green crystals – even Obi-Wan at first. But then, quietly, he had shaken his head and placed his crystal back.

“It does not feel right”, he had whispered, and he had turned from the vibrant, green stones, picking up a light blue one instead.

To Quin, it had felt like a treason, at first. They had promised to keep together – _Still Green_ , no matter what. But Obi-Wan chose blue – and blue caught Master Jinn’s eye as Quinlan and him fought in the training room, Obi allowing Quin to take his anger out once more, countering his vibrant Ataru moves with quiet Soresu.

And it had probably been that strong, kind, compassionate way of fighting his friend, allowing him to calm down, that had made up Master Jinn’s decision. Just like Quin’s vibrant, lightening-like blows had appealed to Master Tholme’s heart and mind, who had never wished to cage his lark-like Padawan, preferring to let him spread his wings his own way.

“Master Jinn _needed_ him. And Obi-Wan needed Qui-Gon. It is not for us to understand, even to comment. We can only rejoice that they found each other.

\- He broke him from Soresu, Nara”, Quinlan voiced, swirling the wine in his glass with slow, deliberate moves. “He made him look small and almost invisible. And then he cast him away because he found a brighter kid.”

And so, finally, Luminara learned it all. About what happened on Tatooine: that bright, nine-year-old boy with an unequalled connection to the Force, who had won the Boonta Eve Classic for Master Jinn, buying his freedom and their own.

Master Jinn’s aggression by a mysterious, hooded creature he had recognised as a Sith – Quinlan had sensed the Darkness in the Force as well. 

The way Master Jinn was so sure this young child was the Chosen One that he was determined to train him – notwithstanding the Council’s opposition, and the fact that he already had a Padawan. 

And then, finally, Master Jinn’s and Obi-Wan’s duel on Naboo with the one that was indeed a Sith apprentice – leading to Master Jinn’s death, Obi-Wan finally becoming a Knight, and taking the young boy as a Padawan the very same day.

“ _Sai tok_?”, Luminara whispered, crestfallen – she could still remember that one day, when they were only five-year-old children, and when a Coruscanti pigeon had slammed against a Temple window, dying on the spot.

Master Yoda had used the opportunity to talk about death, and the Force around them. But Obi-Wan had fought back tears the whole lecture long and had thrown up the chicken soup served at dinner that night simply because older Initiates kept repeating it was _pigeon_. She had held him, that evening. And had promised him to keep it a secret. It still was.

“ _Sai tok_ ”, Kit confirmed, thoughtfully. “Quite unexpected, from such calm waters, isn’t it?

\- Calm waters are often the deepest”, Luminara mused, and Quinlan snorted.

“You almost sound like a Grandmaster, Nara.”

They fell silent again, and Luminara took another sip of wine, finishing her glass. It no longer felt spicy and rich, but simply comforting. And when Quinlan filled her glass again, she did not protest.

“And what does the Council think?”, she asked, finally, finding herself longing for her Master, and the long talks they used to have.

“Well”, Quinlan answered, “From what _I_ know they drilled him with questions, squeezed him like a Roonan lemon, then decided he had not turned and finally let him be. _Ridiculous_. I could have told them, simply holding Master Jinn’s lightsaber.

\- Ever the modest one”, Kit sighed. “I’m not sure it is so simple. I think they are still worried about him. And his Padawan. That little boy is quite a handful, to be honest. Strong in the Force, smart, resourceful, but also lost, hurt, confused, quick to anger and to form attachment. I was training with the little Initiates the other day, and I can tell you he greatly _puzzles_ them.

\- And Obi-Wan?”, Luminara asked, concernedly.

Kit shrugged, burying his hand in his long tresses.

“Certainly has a knack to calm him down. But otherwise he does not talk much. I know he studies a lot with Anakin – he’s also teaching him to release his feelings into the Force. _Trying_ , at least. And training him. With bokkens only, though.

\- And so he should”, Luminara said softly, night-blue eyes lost in remembrances of their own training.

“Enough of training and apprenticeship”, Quinlan threw in. “Tell us about your mission, Nara. And go and brew yourself tea, since you seem to want it so badly.”

He grinned at her, yellow tattoos like crinkles under his eyes. And Luminara gracefully extended her arms behind her shoulders, placing them on the ground in a perfect gym bridge, pirouetting into a standing position.

“Tea it is”, she answered, smiling back.

The night was well advanced when they finally parted. By then, Quinlan was unsteady enough on his feet for Kit to have to sling his arm around his shoulder – and even Kit himself was merrier than usual.

“I’ll go with you”, Luminara said, smiling softly. “I’ll shield you, so that we won’t disturb anyone’s rest.

\- We don’t want that one to start singing”, Kit replied, snorting lightly.

He was actually laughing quietly by the time Luminara closed her door and extended her arms, wrapping them all in a silent Force field.

“Lead the way”, she smiled.

They had to go down the stairs and cross the main hall to reach Quinlan’s quarters. In the dim, dark light, the tall marble pillars looked like trees, the huge tiles shining like ponds – everything was quiet and peaceful.

Until Quinlan suddenly decided it was much faster to _slide_ along the hall, freeing himself from Kit’s arms, Force-projecting himself like a skatecoaster on the marble floor – straight into the poor creature unfortunate enough to cross his way.

Quinlan and his encounter crashed down like clumsy younglings, the noise fortunately stifled by Luminara’s Force field – they still heard the dull thud of bodies meeting the ground the hard way, and for a while it seemed that the one lying under Quinlan was completely stunned.

“Please let it not be Master Windu”, Kit whispered as they approached.

But the silhouette was too small and its skin way too light – and soon they heard Quin cry out delightfully.

“Howdy, Obi!

\- Shhh!”, Kit hissed – it _was_ Obi-Wan indeed, lying absolutely still under Quinlan’s body, brow creased in pain, eyes struggling to focus.

_Wh… m… doi… ere…_

Even his thoughts were jumbled, and Luminara knelt, placing a hand on his brow, another on his shoulder – Kit firmly dragging Quinlan from him.

“Luminara…?”, Obi-Wan whispered, turning his face towards her.

His hair was longer now, and it suited him. But his eyes were too bright, and the skin she felt under her fingers was icy.

“’m sorry…”, Obi-Wan mumbled, eyes closing. “Didn’t mean to… run into you.

\- You did not. It was Quinlan. _Obi-Wan_.”

She shook his shoulder gently, trying to rouse him, and his eyes opened again.

“Luminara…?”

Her concern grew then, because his Force-signature seemed so _dimmed_ , and because she could feel him shiver gently under her hands.

“Quinlan’s angry”, Obi-Wan whispered. “They are so often _angry_. Quinlan, Anakin. I don’t know what to do.”

He closed his eyes again, and once more Luminara could feel jumbled, half-coherent thoughts slipping through his shields.

_Sh… ve be… me._

“Kit, I think he is ill”, she whispered, and her friend quickly knelt next to her, placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s chest.

“I’m not sure”, Kit said slowly, pointing to Obi-Wan’s legs.

And Luminara realized that, though Obi-Wan had indeed pulled on a Jedi tunic and belt, the trousers he wore were light and his feet bare. He was breathing quietly now, eyes closed, face leaning unconsciously into Luminara’s palm, searching for her warmth.

“He still does that?”

Somehow Quinlan had sobered and hovered above Obi-Wan’s head. They were still under Luminara’s Force-field, and the Temple was completely quiet.

“I thought he had outgrown his sleepwalking nights.

\- Apparently not”, Kit mumbled. “He does not look well.”

Luminara could not help to agree. Obi-Wan’s face seemed somehow thinner, eyes lined with deep shadows, and she struggled to recognise his bright, steady Force-signature in the flickering, exhausted glimmer he was radiating. Most of all, he looked terribly small in his light trousers, reminding them of the little boy who had often woken up curled up in one of the classrooms, especially before examinations.

Master Ti had taught them never to try and wake him up, letting him come out of sleep himself. And so Luminara quietly projected warmth into the Force, trying to quell Obi-Wan’s small shivers, while Kit left his hand on his chest, waiting for his breathing pattern to change.

“He’s waking up”, Quinlan warned, about twenty minutes afterwards, and Kit and Luminara drew back, watching Obi-Wan’s eyelids flutter as he began to stir.

This time his gaze was clear and the frown immediate. A thin crease appeared between his eyebrows, and then Obi-Wan made a very distinct sound.

“ _Ow_.”

His knees curled up and he reached for the back of his head, sitting up with a quiet groan.

“What am I doing on the floor?”

He was back into the Force and had felt their presences instantly; they could all tell he knew them, finding it almost natural to be among them. But then Obi-Wan blinked, hand still pressed against his skull.

“ _Oh_.

\- Yes, oh”, Kit said, gently. “Felt like joining the party? Quin and Luminara just came home. I bet you could not wait to say hello.”

Obi-Wan squinted up at them, and then his lips broke into a gentle, genuine smile that almost reached his eyes.

“Luminara… it is so _good_ to see you.”

She placed her hand in his and he clasped it. His fingers were still cold, but his grip was firm and she smiled back at him.

“How was… how was your knighting ceremony?”, he rasped, but then Quinlan cleared his throat audibly behind him, and Obi-Wan turned.

“Hello, Quinlan”, he said quietly, but this time Luminara could feel him _shield_ and could not really blame him: whenever they had met these past years, Quinlan had either teased or frankly lashed out at him.

“Howdy”, Quinlan said, brown gaze steely and unyielding, and Obi-Wan got up, frowning at his clothes and bare feet.

“I… I best go back to my quarters. My Padawan… Anakin might wake up. Thank you for – colliding with me, I guess.”

He had a small, sad smile, bare feet silent as he began to withdraw.

“I am glad you were duly welcomed, Luminara”, he added. “We will see each other tomorrow. Kit, Quinlan…”

And then Obi-Wan left, slender silhouette soon vanishing between the pillars.

“Well, that was swift and eely”, Quinlan commented, with a casual shrug.

Luminara met Kit’s gaze, and then both took Quinlan by an arm, moving towards his quarters.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed”, Kit said.

They soon left the hall behind them, plunging deeper into silence. And Luminara thought that, though all was changed now and would probably never feel the same, it was still good to be home.

*******

Obi-Wan fidgeted nervously on the bench, eyes trained on Anakin who was currently enjoying a hearty brawl with Quinlan Vos, bokkens colliding like drumsticks, electing delightful laughter from his Padawan.

He had been on edge the whole day, unable to shake the feeling, least of all to release it into the Force, and his head was throbbing painfully.

He had _sleepwalked_ through the Temple, leaving Anakin alone and unattended. He had not even been properly _dressed_. Force, he had been unable to even _shut_ his eyes for the rest of the night, determined to never let such a thing happen again.

A warm hand found his forearm, and Luminara’s kind blue eyes met his.

“Relax, Obi… Let them get out some steam. Perhaps you should do the same.”

He looked up at her and swallowed.

“Thank you, Luminara, but I…”

 _I cannot switch on_ his _lightsaber. Not yet. I cannot even feel the Force properly around me. It is all jumbled. I am not even sure I can still_ think _._

“I am fine”, he said instead, voice even, carefully steadying his shields.

Anakin’s bokken crashed into Quinlan’s with a terrible noise, freeing the Jedi’s chest, and Anakin promptly hit him there, squealing with delight.

“Did you see that, Master?

\- _Touches_ , not blows, Anakin”, Obi-Wan replied, getting up and frowning. “No need to break Quinlan’s ribs.

\- But touches are _boring_ , Master!

\- And so are you, Kenobi”, Quinlan laughed, brown eyes flashing defiantly.

Anakin laughed, and suddenly Obi-Wan’s throat tightened, to his utter shame and dismay.

 _Touches, Padawan_ , he managed to project through their training bond, sitting down and leaning against the wall.

“He’s still hung over, Obi”, Luminara voiced, and he felt her gentle Force-brush across his arm. “You should have seen him, skatecoasting across the tiles like a wild Initiate.”

Somehow, Obi-Wan managed to let out a laugh – but he was not really _feeling_ there. His head throbbed, his eyes burned, and his body felt so _heavy_.

He wished he could close his eyes and let it all go, for a small moment.

The tremendous _Pain_ he still felt whenever he tried to think, feel, or move into the Force. The way Anakin _pulled_ , so hard, through their training bond, screaming for attention, care, and love of course. Quinlan, who somehow managed to make him feel like an utter _failure_ who had forsaken himself. Luminara’s concern. The whole Jedi Temple.

Coruscant even, while he was at it.

 _The Galaxy_.

Warmth found his forearm – he opened his eyes and met Luminara’s gaze once more. This time however, she was standing in front of him, shielding him from Quinlan and Anakin.

“Obi-Wan, you need to _rest_.”

She lightly touched his cheek, and he realised with furious shame that his eyes were leaking. _Again_. And he did not even know why. There was nothing new there. Nothing had changed. He was _fine_.

“Shhh, Obi. It is all right. They are fighting. They do not see.”

She clasped both of his hands in hers and squeezed. And Obi-Wan heard a small, stifled sound leave his lips that sounded awfully like a broken sob.

“You know how Quinlan is… He just wants to provoke _reactions_. Just ignore him, release his words – what he feels is not _your_ truth.

\- What if… it is?”, Obi-Wan whispered. “What if I _know_ it is? What then?”

_Too passive. Sometimes, you should act more, and think less, Padawan._

_Touches are_ boring _. So are you._

 _Not getting_ anywhere _._

 _Headstrong. Much to learn about the Living Force. Only_ capable _. Little more he will learn from me._

 _Do you think this is a_ fitting _example for your Padawan?_

 _Leave – Me –_ Alone _._

Luminara’s eyes clouded in worry, and her grip around his hands tightened. Obi-Wan could _feel_ his shields begin to slip, and drew a shuddering breath, trying to slam them back together.

“Master, look!”

Luminara turned, and Obi-Wan looked up – finding Anakin and Quinlan perched on one of the metallic training beams hanging just below the ceiling. Anakin’s legs dangled from each side of the beam, small hands pressed against it, like a little rider, and Quinlan was putting the final touch to his famous one-handed handstand.

“Howdy, Kenobi!”, Quinlan yelled.

“Oh no…”, Obi-Wan muttered, getting up, wiping hastily at his face, seeing Anakin get up on somewhat unsteady legs.

“Anakin, DON’T!”

But the little boy had already placed his hands back on the beam and lifted his legs. For a few seconds, he seemed to hold his balance, leaving Obi-Wan open-mouthed and speechless.

But then he toppled sideways, falling down the beam with a terrifying scream.

Obi-Wan did not even _think_.

He did not even remember leaving the bench and extending his arms.

He just felt the _tug_ , in his chest and under his navel, as he launched every strength he had into the Force, breaking Anakin’s fall, cradling him gently through the Force, until he was able to catch him in his arms.

Until all he felt was a hot, tiny body, clutching desperately at his neck, trembling with fear – until all he heard were Anakin’s terrified, hiccupping sobs, slowly turning into a wail.

“Shh… shh… shh…”, Obi-Wan rasped. “I have got you. It is all right. It is all right. You are safe now. You are safe.”

His Padawan was clinging to him for dear life, legs knotted around his midriff, arms almost choking him. Their bond was mute, and Anakin was crying silently now, face buried against him.

“Obi, I _am_ sorry… I did not imagine…”

Obi-Wan looked up, facing a very pale Quinlan who had suddenly lost all his swagger and seemed to shrink under his gaze.

And Obi-Wan saw _red_.

“You did not _imagine_ …”, he hissed. “Imagine what, exactly? That he would try to mimic all your actions? That a young, impressible Padawan would try to do exactly what you did? That after only fifteen days of training in the Force, my Padawan would not manage Quinlan Vos’ fabled one-handed _handstand?!_ ”

He had projected the word towards Vos like a blow and saw him recoil, slightly. And though it made him quake, though it felt foreign and _burned_ , deep inside, something about it still felt _right_.

Anakin tightened his grip around him and Obi-Wan looked down, realising his Padawan’s tunic was mottled with blood smears.

“What did you do to him?”, he whispered, tonelessly, and Quinlan raised his hands.

“Nothing, Obi, it’s…

\- Don’t you call me like that! _What did you do to him_?

\- You are! _You_ are bleeding, for kriff’s sake!”

Quinlan had shouted and Anakin’s face buried itself even deeper into Obi-Wan’s neck. And Obi-Wan realised that indeed, the spots on his Padawan’s tunic were spreading and that there was a coppery, salty taste on his lips and down his throat. He wiped his face and his sleeve came away bloody.

“ _Sod it_ ”, he whispered.

“Obi-Wan”, Luminara voiced, calmly. “Obi-Wan, let me take care of the boy. This needs to be tended to.”

Anakin moaned, clinging to him, but his nose was positively _gushing_ blood now, and Luminara had always mastered Force-suggestions. Ere long, Anakin was safe in her arms, and Obi-Wan was left in front of Quinlan, pressing a sleeve to his face and looking like an _utter fool_.

The Force was _pulsing_ along with his heartbeats and his headache had spiked. He was feeling both hot and cold, and he struggled to make out Quinlan’s features. Not that he _cared_.

“Say it. Let it out.”

Quinlan’s voice felt far away. They all felt far away, suddenly. Quinlan. Anakin and Luminara. And Obi-Wan was not sure where exactly he was standing. It could be the training rooms. The Council. The Naboo generator. Maybe even that cliff… the cliff that scared him so much because it just _hurt_.

“I was so afraid”, Obi-Wan slurred, bringing down his arm, slowly, not caring for the spots spreading on the floor.

“Yes. I got that. Shouldn’t you…

\- I don’t know why”, Obi-Wan whispered, feeling something in him _break open_ – and it felt right, it felt comforting, it was how it should be.

“Hey. Obi. _Kenobi_ – what do you think you are doing?”

Strong hands were gripping his elbows but Obi-Wan was unable to see to whom they belonged. Qui-Gon…? Or perhaps Master Windu…? Maybe it was the Sith, though. Maybe he had never truly left…

“Obi-Wan. Hey. Don’t do this…

\- It’s alright”, Obi-Wan slurred. “No Pain at all. ‘m okay. ‘m falling too.”

It was all the same. The metallic beam. The Generator on Naboo. The Jedi Council. The sink in the fresher. Anakin’s door.

The same cliff, an endless succession of pitfalls Obi-Wan was simply unable to dodge. Because he had never been enough and could not even feel the Force anymore. Not since Qui-Gon had passed, leaving their bond like a gaping wound. Bleeding him out.

“Luminara, he’s burning up… He’s slipping away…”

The world was white-hot around him, and there was fear in the voice near him. He was no longer standing, he could feel the ground below his body, someone screaming childish words inside his head, but Obi-Wan could no longer understand them.

He was sorry for the Fear. Because it was so unnecessary.

He summoned his remaining strength into a deep breath, and into words.

“No more Pain.”

And then Obi-Wan let himself fall – down the metallic beam, where no one would catch him. Down the Generator, like the blue lightsaber he had built with Qui-Gon.

Down the cold, dark, fearsome cliff he had dreaded so much.

Obi-Wan embraced the Fall, like any true Jedi would.

And the white-hot world embraced him back, until he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, what an horrible way to end a chapter... I'm sorry! But I had to. What I promise, though, is that of course it will all get better :).
> 
> Also, very important: nobody, ever, on this Earth, should be left thinking they are not enough. It's absolutely untrue, unfortunately, sometimes our minds or life circumstances lead us to think this way. Please don't be sad after such a chapter. It was a plunge, but Obi will resurface, I promise <3.
> 
> Now, about the characters, well well well... I bet Quinlan is not sounding very Vos-like. To tell you the truth, I just met him in "Hunt for Ziro" and in SiriKenobi12's story, and I was very surprised at the contrast between those two stories :). I needed Obi-Wan to have fellow-Initiates, and since he seems to be uncomfortable around Quinlan, I just *had* to use him. Don't mistake Quin for a fool, though, he still has a part to play :).
> 
> Obi's sleepwalking comes from BigFatBumblebee's beautiful story 'Help You We Will'. Go and read it. It's the perfect remedy to angsty chapters such as mine :).
> 
> Dear ones, please feel free to comment and review, you bring me so much joy and I love our little community! Much much love and a lovely week to you. Till next Friday, take care, Meysun.


	6. Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there and a very good Friday/Saturday to you! 
> 
> I am very sorry for the literal cliffhanger I left you with last week. It's a dangerous weapon, because it easily riles up readers, and then one has to keep up the work. 
> 
> But, finally, after much editing, here you have the next chapter of our dear Obi's life. As usual, thank you so much for your reviews, your enthusiasm and your insight. I was so, so happy you liked the "Green pact", and actually, to console myself of finishing this fic next Friday, I'm toying with the idea of writing a fic about those four, and the time where Qui-Gon chooses Obi-Wan. Would it appeal to some of you?
> 
> Anyway, hope that you had a great week and that you are still well. Enjoy the reading I hope, I'll see you below :), Meysun.

Frailty – yet such strength. Hurt – yet such resilience.

There was awe and mystery to be found in the body, as much as in the Force itself. Probably because the Living Force nourishing the body and the Cosmic Force linking all souls were one and the same thing…

Master Vokara Che had abandoned any semblance of theory long ago. There was knowledge, of course. Medical procedures, gestures to be mastered, diagnoses to call to the mind, drugs and cures to prescribe. But there was all the rest.

Intuition. Kindness. Empathy. Seeing the mind and soul hiding behind the body. Following the signs left by a Force signature, where iron will, shame or simply exhaustion would only try to blur or conceal.

And then, there was the unfathomable. The pain that had seemingly no cause. The reoccurring symptoms, sometimes years afterwards. The dreams and visions, so hard to read and to forget. Hurt possessed such a vast spectrum – and yet the mind and soul had infinite ways to try and preserve themselves, sometimes at a physical cost.

It was even more so in Humans – or in near-Humans. Zabraks, Twi’leks, Umbarans, Mirialians, Kiffar… all of them were so very sensitive, prone to emotions and intuitions. But Humans were perhaps even frailer, simply because their bodies had very limited sensorial organs: no lekku, no montrals, no horns. Instead, their minds and hearts seemed to race each other to make sense of the world around them: feelings were mixed with thoughts, intuition was confused with sensation, and they reeled. So often.

And yet they so often amazed her with their trust. Their faith. Their way to still find a way to read the world – to find their way back to the Force.

Humans had often been the ones Vokara had seen fall the lowest. Those who struggled most with attachment. And yet, they had, just as often, been those who had accomplished unfathomable deeds.

Those whose Force-signature never failed to move her, because its ephemerality was palpable, singing of defiance and acceptance, of fear and courage, of pain and resilience, of struggle and of love. There was as much Dark as Light there – and yet, they shone so warmly. And Vokara Che had renounced to try and explain it – she could only try to understand, and help.

The Halls of Healing were very quiet that day. Most of the Jedi had either left for their next mission or returned to the Temple days ago. Luminara Unduli had been the last one to come back, and her mission had caused no injury – as such, Vokara Che and her assistants were left with the usual bruised Padawans and physical therapy sessions.

She was just about to return to her office, seriously considering to finally find the much-needed time to sort out data and files, when the Halls doors barged open and the Force positively went _havoc_.

“Quinlan Vos!”

But Master Che’s sharp lecture stopped abruptly when she truly caught sight of the young Kiffar and felt the Force pooling around him. Boundless fear, shame, urgency screamed at her, pleading with her to _save_ , to _heal_ , to _make things whole again_.

And in his arms, he was cradling Obi-Wan Kenobi, who seemed to be unconscious, face and chest bloodied, auburn hair matted, looking almost dark against his pale, marble-like skin.

_The Force is leaving him._

The thought flowed through her like an icy evidence – she could feel the drain around Obi-Wan’s chest, brow and waist, the way his Force signature was growing dimmer with each stuttering heartbeat, the deafening _silence_ where she should have felt a presence, or at least tightly woven shields.

“He fell. He just....”

Vos’ voice was trembling, and Master Che reached out through the Force, helping him release his arms around Kenobi to stretch him out on one of the beds. Two medical droids had rushed to their side: one was already at Obi-Wan’s chest, running a scan, the other had taken hold of his arm and was inserting an infusion needle.

“Other arm as well…”, Master Che muttered, wiping Obi-Wan’s face and lips, where blood had pooled and was still sluggishly running from his nose.

His skin was clammy and pale, fingers icy and unresponsive, heat lingering on his forehead where sweat was cooling.

“ _Blood pressure 75/60 mmHg and dropping, heartrate 133 bpm, oxygen saturation 90%, temperature 100.4°F…_ ”, the droid rattled down.

“It has dropped. He was hotter”, Quinlan whispered, but the other droid interrupted him with its nasal and inexpressive voice.

“ _No physical injury found. Scan complete._

\- Are you kidding me, you useless piece of _JUNK?!_ He’s bleeding all over the place, you clanking _idiot!_

\- Quinlan Vos!”, Master Che snapped, hand splayed on Obi-Wan’s forehead, searching for his presence, his shields… _anything_. 

Instead, she found a gaping, silent _void_ where she could still feel the echo of a Pain so tremendous it made her shudder. She found the ruins of Obi-Wan’s broken shields, but what he had shielded had somehow escaped, like a caged, crazed bird, flowing into the Cosmic Force, breaching him open.

“It is happening in his mind”, she whispered.

There was almost no Living Force left in him – she quickly gave her orders to the droids: fluids, noradrenalin, and constant monitoring. Then Vokara Che closed her eyes and channelled all her energy towards her centre, feeling it pool warmly right below her chest. And then, placing her other hand on Obi-Wan’s chest, leaving the other on his brow, she let it flow towards him, drawing strength from the Cosmic Force, trying to replenish his waning life-Force.

“ _Blood pressure 85/60… 90/60… 95/60. Stabilizing. Heartrate 120. Temperature 102.2._ ”

Master Che could feel Obi-Wan’s body warm under her hands, beginning to shudder slightly as the Force flew through him. There was still no real presence, though: she had managed to buy him some time, to heal the Force-shredding in his chest and waist, but his mind was something else.

And she would need help.

She opened her eyes and saw that he was no longer bleeding. His head had lolled to the side, hair damp with his rising fever, lax features making him look even more boyish, almost childlike.

“ _Epistaxis cut off. Diaphragmatic expulsion occurring with a probability of 87% in 15 seconds._ ”

The look on Vos’ face was murderous – and Vokara Che realized his hand had never left Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The droid remained unfazed, however, dropping a metallic basin on the bed.

“Help me sitting him up.”

To his credit, Vos obeyed instantly, drawing an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, holding him against his chest, not even cringing when Kenobi began to heave, bringing up most of the blood he had swallowed.

“ _Kriff_ , Kenobi”, he only whispered. “It is supposed to be the other way round. And only when I am drunk.”

He was the one wiping his friend’s lips when the fit passed, with delicate moves that would have astonished half the Temple but that Vokara Che had _known_ ever since his infancy.

“Luminara is outside with his Padawan”, he said quietly, still holding Kenobi against him, watchful lest he should be sick again. “She thought it would be too scary for him in there, seeing him like this. Nara always _thinks_ of that sort of things.”

_And so does he._

But Quinlan did not say the words aloud. Instead, he lowered Obi-Wan on the bed when it became clear that his state had somehow stabilized.

“I cannot feel him in the Force. Not really. Will he be alright?”

Vos only sounded casual, and Master Che’s voice was gentle as she answered:

“I do not know yet. I need to know what happened. Do you think his Padawan could handle seeing him now?

\- The kid is tough. He’s from _Tatooine_.”

She nodded, then. But before allowing Luminara to come in, she made sure to remove Obi-Wan’s bloodied tunic, belt and obi, leaving him in his long-sleeved undertunic for now, shaking her head at the thinness she found under the many folds. Whatever he had tried to contain and shield had consumed and drained him – and she suspected it had been going on way too long.

She took a sheet and covered the young Jedi up to the chest, placing his arms above to keep an eye on the infusions, and then she called for Luminara Unduli and Padawan Skywalker.

The child was half hidden behind Luminara, hand firmly clasping hers. She had placed a hand on his shoulder and Master Che could feel her gentle Force suggestions, sending soothing waves towards the boy.

“Hello Anakin”, Vokara said, gently. “Luminara.

\- Hello, Master Che”, the boy whispered, wide eyes trained on Obi-Wan, slowly filling with tears he was trying to blink back.

“Remember, Anakin”, Luminara murmured. “These are the Halls of Healing. It is normal to be asleep and lying down here. And your Master needs to rest.”

The boy nodded, small fist rubbing at his eyes. He was still wearing his training tunic and his hair was tousled, short braid falling apart. There were tear-tracks on his cheeks as well, but Luminara had worked wonders and he seemed settled enough, slowly approaching Obi-Wan’s bed.

“He looks like Threepio”, he whispered, eyeing the infusion lines. “I also had to change his cables, sometimes. He kept losing his eye.”

His voice was trembling, but he was touching the bed now, fingers reaching out for Obi-Wan’s hand, shyly clasping it.

“Who is Threepio?”, Master Che asked, and Luminara answered:

“A droid, I presume.

\- A _protocol_ droid”, Anakin corrected, earnestly. “Can you wake him up, please, Master Che? Can we go back home?”

His voice cracked, a little, and Master Che was left wondering what the word actually meant for that foreign little boy, clinging to his fading Master’s hand.

“He is very tired, Anakin. He has not been well.

\- I know…”, the little boy sighed, gazing down at Obi-Wan sadly. “Because of me. And because of Master Qui-Gon.”

Vos, Luminara and Master Che quickly exchanged a look.

“Now, why would you say such a thing, little one?”, Master Che prompted.

“ _Beca-ause_ ”, Anakin said, in the telling tone children used to state the obvious. “He loved Master Qui-Gon, and he’s very, very sad. He won’t talk about him, but I know, because we have a… _bond_. And sometimes when I’m in bed I can feel the same thing I felt when I left Mum. And so I know.

\- And what do you do then, little one?”, Master Che asked, softly.

“I… hug him in my head”, Anakin whispered, lowering himself close to Obi-Wan, draping his arm across his chest, resting his cheek against his shoulder. “He _likes_ hugs. He always hugs me when I cry. He does not say I am a _handful_. He says gentle things and I like his voice in my mind, because he never snaps. He drew me a picture of home.”

They all fell silent for a while, and then Vokara Che spoke once more.

“Has he been… any different, Anakin? These past days? Has your bond felt strange or unusual?”

The little boy shook his head.

“He was _upset_. When Master Windu talked to him, after we came back. He told me so. He explained the word, as well. It means shaken, but only for a while. That’s why he did not eat dinner that day. I don’t like Master Windu.”

The last sentence was whispered wistfully, with a frown that looked very much like Obi-Wan’s, and she saw the beginning of a smile lift Quinlan’s lips.

“And he was sad when I came back from Master Ti’s class and pushed him away. But he said we _sorted it out_. We listened to Old World music. He likes that, and so do I.”

A small shudder went through Obi-Wan’s frame and Vokara Che looked at the scales on the monitor. His temperature was slowly dropping, and she knew they did not have much time.

“And today? Can you tell me what happened?

\- He was… tired. I don’t think he sleeps well on the couch. And I wanted to spar with Master Vos after our katas, so Obi-Wan said yes. And then I made a mistake.”

Anakin went mute then, burying his face against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

_I’m sorry, Master._

“ _I_ made a mistake”, Quinlan muttered. “I lifted us to a training beam. And then I showed him how to make a handstand. He tried to do the same and fell. Obi-wan caught him just in time. And then he started bleeding, and talking nonsense, and just _collapsed_.

\- He was unwell before”, Luminara’s soft voice objected. “He was… There were sad, very dark thoughts troubling him. I felt them slip through his shields. He was hurting. And he was ashamed of it. I have never felt him in the Force that way…”

Vokara Che nodded, narrowing her eyes. She had not liked him leaving the Halls one bit, three days after his return from Naboo. But, carefully hidden behind clear grey eyes and smooth features, that boy had shields made of _iron_ , was nothing but stubborn, and had visibly a baffling Pain-tolerance.

“Luminara, I need you to fetch Master Yoda and Master Billaba as quickly as you can. Quinlan, I want you to stay where you are, and to try to channel the Force towards him, should his vitals plummet once more. His shields are broken, and his old training bound is bleeding him out. We need to close it as soon as possible.”

Luminara immediately bowed and left, and Quinlan stared at her, brown eyes wide with concern.

“His old bond has been _bleeding_ for two kriffing weeks…?”, he croaked, and Vokara Che did not have it in her to chide him for his language.

“So it would seem”, she said, very sadly, and Vos shook his head.

“Then we are even blinder than I thought.”

The young Kiffar lowered his eyes towards Kenobi, and she felt his grim resolve through the Force.

“You have a very strong Master, little one”, he told Anakin.

“I _know_.”

The child was still curled up against Obi-Wan, small arm carefully avoiding his wrist and the infusion line, bright Force-signature shining towards him. He had no functional shields yet and was projecting all over the place.

_Master, you promised. You said you would not let me be alone. I’m staying with you, and I’ll be calm and silent like when we cuddle on the couch and I’m meeting you in the Force. Only you need to answer back or I won’t find you. But if you want to sleep it’s okay too. Just don’t go. Don’t go like Master Qui-Gon, please Master, please…_

Anakin’s face was calm, half buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder. And Vokara Che realised that the little Padawan was trying very hard to project only light towards his young Master – instinctively sensing what Obi-Wan needed.

“He is very lucky to have you, young one”, she told him, and this time Anakin did not reply, Padawan braid brushing Obi-Wan’s neck.

Ere long, Vokara Che heard the small clicking noise of Master Yoda’s walking stick, and felt the calm, soothing presence of Deepa Billaba. Luminara bowed, and Master Che thanked her silently through the Force.

“Could you stay, and hold on to Quinlan? I do not know how much time we will need. He might drop fast.

\- We will keep Obi there, Master Che”, the calm Mirialian answered, night-blue eyes bright and serene as she clasped Quinlan’s hand. “And so shall Anakin.

\- Cling to his Master, our little will-o’-wisp will.”

Yoda’s voice was gentle, but his eyes were full of sorrow and worry as he eyed Obi-Wan’s pale face.

“Bond bleeding”, he let out, with a deep sigh. “Fix this, we _must_.

\- Deepa, I need you to lead us inside his mind. He is not aware enough to let us in himself, you will have to search for his Force-signature and wedge us in. Quin, Nara – he will not like this. If he quakes or seizes, please try to calm him down through the Force. I already programmed the meddroid to inject him a sedative should his distress last too long, but I would rather avoid it.

\- Understood.”

Vos’ voice was grim, and his fingers tightened around Luminara’s hand.

Deepa Billaba placed herself in front of Obi-Wan, hands extended towards his chest, and Vokara Che and Yoda both latched out through the Force, anchoring themselves to her signature. Then Deepa closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and for a long while nothing tangible happened – yet Vokara Che could feel her immersing herself deeper and deeper into the Force.

_I found him. He is fading fast – he has fallen far into the Cosmic Force._

Deepa took a deep breath, a look of absolute concentration falling over her calm features. Dimly, Vokara Che felt her presence circling another, tiny and exhausted, sending out soothing waves of warmth.

_Let us help you, young one. Let us in. Do not fight this alone._

Obi-Wan’s small, flickering presence seemed to fold even more onto itself. And then, almost brutally, it opened, and Deepa gracefully let herself fall through the newly opened door, taking them both with her.

The world they entered was dark, and chilly. They could all feel, though, that this was not its nature, that something had happened to make it so, and that this small world was mourning the light and peace it has once harboured.

They could see beautiful grassy slopes, feel the delicate flowers growing there. They could also make out high mountains with snowy peaks, reaching out for the stars. A dark, mysterious forest, where trees grew near enough to bar all exploration. They could hear a small brooklet bubbling there, breaking into waterfalls, throwing itself into a calmer river winding down to a shore they could not make out.

It was a beautiful world. A peaceful world, harbouring many secrets, where the trees’ roots ran deep, and where the water was strong. But there was no sun in this world, no stars in its sky, and the terrible, piercing, shrieking wind was chilling them to the bone, its mournful cry coming from sharp cliffs where darkness seemed to pool.

“To the cliffs, we must go”, Yoda said, and as he moved, following the brooklet’s song, he reached out for the irises and reeds growing there, righting their wind-crooked stems lovingly.

They soon reached the fateful cliffs, where the cold was almost unbearable, and where the wind seemed to moan, hurling itself down the ragged edges, into a dark abyss they could not fathom.

“A wall, here, there used to be.

\- And a bridge”, Vokara said, kneeling and pointing towards the remnants of blackened stones.

“It seems to have been scorched”, Deepa observed. “And to have crumbled.

\- But weakened before, it has been”, Yoda said, picking up several pieces of rubble. “Ivy roots first. Beautiful, but inexorable. Our Oak loved this little world and grew deep into it. It seemed he had begun to stifle it. Unconscious of this, he probably was. Willing enough to let him in, our little Reed was.

\- But the Fire?”, Deepa asked, drawing her hands into her sleeves to fight the chilly air.

“Sith”, Vokara spat out. “He wedged himself right through the weakened bridge, burning it down. And when Qui-Gon died, everything crumbled.

\- What is that… abyss, Grandmaster?”, Deepa asked. “Is it… the Dark Side?

\- No, Master Deepa”, Yoda answered, sadly. “It is simply the Force. Small worlds we all are, living together in the Force. More numerous than stars, or planets. Sometimes bridges we build between our worlds - in crossing them, we rejoice. But when Qui-Gon’s bridge was burnt, no longer able to see where his world ended and where the Cosmic Force started, our young one was. Closing the boundaries of Obi-Wan’s world we need, or lose him we will.”

They began with carefully picking up the rubble at the edge of the cliff. They gathered every small stone, even the singed ones, building stone-piles that formed as many memorials, standing quietly against the void.

And then, the three Jedi Masters raised their arms, searching for the rift in the sky where the wind was weeping, and latched out for the broken threads of clouds, wonders and dreams.

“Peace in your world, little brooklet”, Yoda whispered.

They wove the shredded threads back together, carefully, infusing them with the Force, willing them to become strong and resilient once more. And when they had knitted the sky back together, they did the same for the ground, unifying broken bits of earth, closing the fissures in the sharp cliffs.

The world breathed out, softly, around them – and the wind quietened with a last soft, mournful sigh. Gone was the gaping rift, the terrible chill, the wailing noise. The cliffs stood bathed in silent grey-blue light, stone-piles raised like tiny pillars, reminders of a once-strong bridge.

“Deal with them, Obi-Wan will.

\- It is still very dark”, Deepa said, looking around.

“But light there is, behind the clouds.”

They all looked up, and saw that the stars had broken through, bathing the world around them in a soft, shrouded light.

“And this, Master Yoda?”, Vokara Che asked, pointing to a faint, pink light, almost hidden behind the high mountain peaks.

“This, Master Che…”, Yoda said, warmth colouring every word, “This is our will-o’-wisp rising as the sun it is. Give new light to this world, it will. Strong in the Force, they will become together – the new Master and his Padawan.”

The old Grandmaster smiled.

“Come, Deepa. Vokara. Needed here, no more we are.”

*******

Obi-Wan woke to a white world of weariness and heat. He could feel something running through his body, flowing through the back of his hand, and was also aware of his heartbeats, drumming erratically through his very _head_.

He tried to open his eyes but found that he could not, and soon enough he felt a hand on his brow, brushing back his hair and cooling him gently.

“Rest, Obi-Wan. Your fever is still very high.”

He instantly succumbed to the sleep suggestion, unable to fight it, unable to find out where he was and what was happening to him.

It was much later when he woke again, and this time he managed to open his eyes, trying to make out his surroundings. The world was still white – sheets pooling around his body, pristine walls and clothes. The windows were shut, though, and he could tell it was night because the lights were dimmed.

He glanced to the back of his hand, where he found an infusion line disappearing under a transparent dressing – and became aware of a soft beeping sound next to him.

_The Halls._

“Yes, young one”, a quiet voice said, on his left. “Welcome back.”

He turned, slowly, blinking through his exhaustion, and was met with Master Che’s earnest face, blue lekku resting on her shoulders, gaze calm and alert.

“Do not speak, Obi-Wan. Your shields are low right now, you can project.”

_Oh._

He blinked, confusedly, trying to assess his body. He was hurting, he felt hot and his head ached, but most of all, he was thirsty.

He must have projected it somehow, because Master Che drew an arm around his shoulders and sat him up, bringing a glass to his lips he emptied slowly.

_Did I… sleepwalk again?_

“No, young one. You passed out on the training grounds. Do you remember?”

_No… Was I… Did Quinlan fall down the beam…?_

“Not exactly, Obi-Wan… You can ask him tomorrow. He will probably come and visit. Now you need to sleep.”

_Is… everyone well?_

“Yes, dear one. You can sleep now. You can sleep.”

He obeyed those gentle words once more, sinking into the soft, white sheets, feeling safe and protected for the first time in weeks.

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes once more, the day was late already, and the infusion on his right hand was gone. His body was feeling cooler, and his head was not pounding so much, but it was still spinning as he tried to sit up, and he was grateful for the pillows a mindful soul had stacked behind his back, allowing him to sink back against them.

He was still feeling drowsy and slow, but something in him felt _soothed_ , leaving him sighing in relief – and then Obi-Wan remembered.

That Qui-Gon had left. That he was on his own, now. That he had held him as he died and had watched him join the Force. That the blue eyes that had soothed him, and the strong frame he had fought in sync with, would be only memories now.

And, more than Qui-Gon’s words in front of the Council, more than the horrible red blade that had pierced his chest, it was Qui-Gon’s hand Obi-Wan remembered. Cradling his cheek. Wiping his tears away.

_Padawan mine._

He felt almost _there_. In a way, he still was, and always would be.

And so Obi-Wan raised his knees and pressed his face against them, circling his legs, and did what he could have done, what he _should_ have done – on Naboo, and here on Coruscant, because it was right. Because Qui-Gon deserved it.

Obi-Wan wept, face buried in his knees, facing his grief, because it was also Love – because it was also Gratitude.

And the words that had haunted him so bitterly ever since Qui-Gon’s death rose through his grief, wrapping themselves around him like a soothing embrace.

_There is no Pain. There is only Memory._

_Padawan mine._

He could feel the Force around him. He could breathe through it, move through it, live in it, and there was no horrible feeling of falling, no nausea, no blinding headache, even though he was still weak and feverish.

He was back in the Force, and Obi-Wan wept.

He fell back to sleep, afterwards, and did not remember Master Che guiding him down to a more comfortable position. However, he had a distinct feeling of hands smoothing down his hair, guiding him into deep slumber, and Obi-Wan followed gladly.

He was awake once more and finishing a bowl of broth tasting of almost _nothing_ when his door opened slowly. Quinlan’s face took a peep, and Obi-Wan watched a broad grin spread on his face.

“All clear”, he said, and a young, impatient little voice answered.

“I _know._ ”

 _Master, he doesn’t let me_ see.

Obi-Wan felt a wave of love and warmth raise in his chest as the somewhat whiny words reached through their bond, almost bringing tears to his eyes again.

“Quinlan Vos”, he croaked, voice still weak from sleep. “Do let my Padawan in, or you will face his wrath. And mine.

\- MASTER!!!!”

He barely had the time to place his bowl back on the tray, and to open his arms, before Anakin plummeted against him, making them both fall back against the pillows. But Obi-Wan did not care, embracing him fiercely, burying his face in the soft, sandy hair.

“Awww, cute”, an amused voice cooed – this could only be Kit, and Anakin huffed, arms still wrapped tightly around Obi-Wan.

“We are not _cute_. _You_ are.”

Luminara’s silvery laughter echoed through the room and Obi-Wan realized they were all there. His three childhood friends and his Padawan.

“He’s not”, he whispered. “He’s not cute at all. Look at those tentacle-tresses.

\- Master!”, Anakin giggled, drawing back to look at him, eyes wide.

“Told you he could crack a joke”, Quinlan grinned. “He just needs to fry his brain first, obviously.

\- Nah, he just cares a lot about me, and you can’t handle it, Vos”, Kit threw back, smiling at him, sitting down on Obi-Wan’s right.

Luminara took a seat on his left, and Quinlan predictably perched himself on the bed, at Obi-Wan’s feet.

“So…”, Quinlan started, and Anakin wriggled against Obi-Wan, nestling himself more comfortably against him, cheek resting against his chest, arms around his waist.

“When, exactly, were you planning to tell us what was going on?”

Obi-Wan’s hand searched for Anakin’s head, stroking his hair, noticing his Padawan’s braid was coming undone. He loosened the band holding it together and began separating the strands, combing through them, feeling Anakin relax even more against him.

“That, my dear friend, is Obi-Wan’s way to tell you to mind your own business”, Kit observed, gently, and Obi-Wan felt his cheeks begin to colour.

“I… did not realize”, he said, voice low. “I thought it was… just me.

\- Just you?”

Quinlan’s voice sounded aghast, and Obi-Wan felt his shame rise even more. He had heard it all from Master Che and knew they had been forced to call Master Billaba and _Grandmaster Yoda_ – all because of him.

“Can we… not talk about this right now?”, he pleaded, quietly, still unable to look up.

Anakin’s braid was loosened now, and he began to plait it back, silently.

_Master, you can tell them. It is alright. They are nice._

His fingers paused – and he realized his friends had kept silent, respecting his boundaries, trying to be there for him even though he had almost forgotten he still _had_ them.

“I thought it was… because I was hurt and angry. I thought it was… because of _him_. That I was dark myself. That I had to… keep it inside and hidden. I did not… I was afraid the Council would…”

_Kick me out of the Jedi Temple. Take Anakin away from me._

He did not say those words aloud. He did not need to, not with them.

“And then I thought that this was attachment, and I… I tried to…

\- Clamp down on it?”, Quinlan said, softly. “Been there, done that, my friend. It’s the worst idea you ever had.”

_I know._

Luminara gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and he finally looked up, meeting her calm, night-blue eyes.

“We are glad to have you back, Obi”, she said, warmly. “We all make mistakes.

\- Not _you_ , Nara”, Quinlan snorted, but Luminara shook her head.

“ _Everybody_ , Quin.

\- And that unhealthy attachment you have with your _couch_ , Obi…”, Kit voiced, black eyes sparkling but concern lacing his voice. “You do realize this has to stop, as well…? You can’t just – _erase_ yourself from your own quarters. That’s not how it works.”

_Sorry, Master._

Anakin must have sensed his surprise, and Obi-Wan finished his braid, fastening the band around the short strand.

_Nothing to be sorry for, Padawan. You told them nothing but the truth._

“Master, can I stay with you tonight? Master Che said she would keep you, but she did not say how long… Please…?

\- Anakin, you know Obi-Wan has to rest”, Luminara told the little boy gently.

“But I brought Spikes”, Anakin whispered, looking up at Obi-Wan with blue, trusting eyes.

“Well then”, Obi-Wan said, voice soft. “Out with him. You can fall asleep here, Anakin. We will see what Master Che says, afterwards.”

He watched his Padawan take out the small tooka doll, tucking it safely against his chest, before nestling once more against him. His eyelids were heavy, and he could feel sleep tug at his Padawan’s mind, even though it was still early.

“What have you been up to, little one?

\- We read a lot, with Master Luminara, and I know to write all the letters now without making mistakes. And then Master Vos made me run laps and stretch and go through all the katas you taught me. And then I…”

Anakin yawned, small hand settling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“And then I wanted to see you, but you were sleeping so I fixed one of Master Che’s droids and she said I could come back _anytime_. And then…

\- And then I followed Master Vos everywhere, even in the fresher, and drilled holes in Master Unduli’s and Master Fisto’s minds until they agreed to take you back to the Halls to see your beloved little Master…

\- No… Not to the _fresher_ …”, Anakin wrinkled his nose at Quinlan, smiling a little, but his eyes were closed now.

“Well, that sounds like a very eventful day, little one”, Obi-Wan said, hand gently resting on Anakin’s head, finding his brow.

“Hmmmm”, Anakin whispered, and Obi-Wan smiled, nudging the Force towards him, watching him fall asleep.

“Hey. Master Che’s orders. No use of the Force for you, not until you are clear.

\- He was drifting anyway”, Obi-Wan whispered, feeling his Padawan’s deep breaths against his chest, basking in the peace it brought him.

“And so are you”, Kit Fisto observed. “Come on, Nara, Quin – we don’t want Master Che to turn all Mama Rankor on us. Let’s leave those two to their rest.”

He gently squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulder, winking at him. Luminara rose, and then she did something very rare, bending towards him and kissing him lightly on the cheek.

“It is good to have you back, Obi”, she said, and he could feel himself turn quite pink, making her smile.

“He told us, you know”, Quinlan grinned, gently reaching for Obi-Wan’s ankle, shaking it through the blanket. “That you were a hugger.

\- Vos, leave him be”, Kit threw back. “I’m a hugger too, and you never gave a damn. I’m offended.”

And with these words, he grabbed Quinlan under the armpits, lifting him from Obi-Wan’s bed, squeezing him against him, unfazed by his spluttering. And Obi-Wan felt himself laugh, cradling Anakin against him.

It did not last long, his friends making sure to leave before Master Che was able to chide them for their behaviour. But it still felt good, filling his chest with warmth.

He would have to be patient until he recovered, but he could not wait to leave the Halls and to meet them _all_ , properly, on the training grounds. He could not wait to try and reach out for the Force again – he had missed its presence in his mind, the way it always soothed and centred him.

And, even though it would be an ordeal, even though he was still missing Qui-Gon fiercely, even though that grief would never truly go away – Obi-Wan could not wait to come back to their quarters, and start afresh from there.

With his little Padawan, who shone brighter than any star and was peacefully asleep against him. Obi-Wan gently tucked his braid behind Anakin’s ear and pulled up the blanket so that he would be warm.

And then, thanking the Force one last time, Obi-Wan closed his eyes as well and drifted into grateful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I didn't do it again :). No cliffhanger this week, even though Obi-Wan still has some things to wrap up in the final chapter, and that of course, he's not back to happy and bubbling in one single day (eeehm, actually never but that's not me, that's his life). I hope I didn't butcher Vokara Che, whom I only know from researches. As you noticed, I could not stop myself from writing a bit more of Quinlan whom I find truly fascinating, and indulge shamelessly into Yoda :). I hope you liked it, and please feel free to point out any loose ends, any unanswered questions in this story you want me to address next Friday. And any fic wishes, because I just love to read your thoughts and to write for you. Thank you for everything, much love and take care, Meysun.


	7. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear ones, there it is... the last Friday chapter of this story that has been so wonderful to write for you, and to share with you. I'm going to get very emotional in my last author note below, so I'll try to keep it short here. As usual, I want to thank you for the amazing response for my last chapter, for your comments, your thoughts, your input and your reading. You are truly, truly wonderful.
> 
> This chapter broke some rules, in the sense that Obi isn't speaking here. But I think that, when you'll find out who is, you'll forgive me. It just felt natural this way, and my Obi just whispered "no need" when I finished with that part - so I tried to respect his wish. I hope you'll enjoy the reading. Much love, and see you below, Meysun.

He could still feel the sand, sometimes.

Engrained in his hair, in the folds of his clothes, in his boots. Often, it felt like the chip was still there too, ready to blow him off along with his dreams. Sometimes, when the ventilators ran in the teaching rooms, they still sounded like the noise of Watto’s wings – he was almost expecting to hear him snarl in Huttese at _those Jedi and their mind tricks_.

Sometimes Ani would have liked that. Watto was not a very nice person, he swore a lot, and he only thought about money and bets and podracing – but he had taught him _things_ , and let him use discarded, broken tools and cables to build Threepio. And Watto was not very impressed by high-nosed people like Master Windu or some Initiates that kept looking at him and whispering things behind his back.

There were times where Ani would give anything to hear them called _Bantha poodoo_ by Watto. Some horrible, choking moments where he was ready to swallow sand, even to get his chip back into the shoulder, if it just meant seeing Mum again, breathing in her scent and feeling her arms around him.

He tried to remember what Mum had told him, then. To hear her voice in his head, asking him what his heart said, about them seeing each other again one day. Ani knew that Jedi were not allowed to keep credits for themselves, and that meant that there was no way to buy Mum from Watto. Not even for Obi-Wan who was the best Jedi Master Anakin could think of, and who knew almost all about Mum, Watto and Tatooine.

Obi-Wan was very good at making Ani talk, aloud or in his head, because he always _listened_. Not just listened like using his ears, or paying attention like for Master Ti’s classes – more like trying to understand, helping him to lay out his feelings like parts of his podracer, and putting them back in.

Obi-Wan had told him than Master Quinlan had been on Tatooine too because of a mission concerning the Dugs. And that Quinlan and he had written reports about slaves in the Outer Rim, to alert the Republic about the ways the Hutts treated people over there. But he had also told Anakin that there was not much hope, because the Republic was very, very slow to react, just like they had been for Padmé’s planet.

Ani had seen Obi-Wan’s face take that sad, somewhat faraway look he had whenever he was thinking of Master Qui-Gon – that had been before he fell into Master Quinlan’s arms and went to the Halls of Healing. And they had not talked about his Mum, and slaves ever since – but Ani still thought about it and he knew, thanks to their bond, that Obi-Wan did as well.

Anakin loved their training bond.

It felt like having a best friend, always, even when he slept. It felt like never being truly alone. And it was _interesting_. Because, now that Obi-Wan was resting in the Halls and not always trying to shield him from his thoughts, he sometimes heard what was going on in his Master’s mind – and Obi-Wan’s mind just _ran_. Sometimes his thoughts were so fast that Ani had a hard time following them – they felt sharp and quick and bright like a ship switching to hyperspace. And often, they were so deep and full of shades that Anakin could barely understand them – but he could still sense just how smart and thoughtful Obi-Wan was, and it filled him with pride because _he_ was Obi-Wan’s Padawan, and no one else.

Obi-Wan was a very good reason not to swallow sand and get back to Tatooine. And what’s more, Obi-Wan needed Ani, because otherwise he would be on his own now that Master Qui-Gon had left them both. And Master Qui-Gon had made a big, big hole in Obi-Wan’s heart and mind, one that had almost made him die and had made Master Che and Grandmaster Yoda all worried and _focused_. So Ani could not really leave him.

Especially now, because Obi-Wan was leaving the Halls today – and Ani could not wait to have him back. 

Sure, it had been very funny to spend time with Master Quinlan and to speak some Huttese with him – mostly _bad_ words, but they didn’t tell Obi-Wan. Master Quinlan was a very good sparrer and he didn’t mind a bit of cheating such as getting kicked in the shins or letting himself fall. He said it was _streetwise_ and it made Ani proud somehow because that’s what he was. Streetwise and learning fast.

Watto had always said so too.

Master Unduli was never cheating, but she was very, very nice as well. She felt like a cold waterfall, like a hidden well, and when Ani had told her so, she had smiled, and he had seen her blue eyes warm. Master Unduli liked Master Obi-Wan a lot and Ani could tell why, because somehow they were very much alike. They both liked the quiet. They were both very, very good at meditating and staying so calm and silent in the Force that sometimes it was hard to _feel_ them along. And then, when they came back, it felt like seeing the twin moons of Tatooine again, that actually never went away and stayed there, waiting for the hot sun to go to sleep.

He had told Obi-Wan so, and his Master had smiled, and also blushed a little. Obi-Wan had thought about it for a while, and then he had told Ani that this was a very good way to paint them in the Force.

“It is still the sun, little one”, he had added after a while. “Lightening the moons. They are reflecting its light, not shining on their own.”

Ani had frowned at this, sitting cross-legged on Obi-Wan’s bed in the Halls.

“But you _do_ shine, Master”, he had objected. “Whenever I’m meeting the Force, all I can see is you.”

Obi-Wan had smiled very, very gently at him.

“That, Padawan mine, is either because you are still clinging to me, or… because I am reflecting who you are.”

Ani had opened his mouth, ready to contradict him, but Obi-Wan had extended his hand towards him, shaking his head.

“Anakin, it is not a bad thing. It is who I am. Who I have always been, even though it took me a long, long time to see and to accept this, because I wanted to be someone else, because I always thought I had to be different. I do not burn, Anakin. I do not have that fire I see in you, in Quinlan, in Kit and… that used to be in Qui-Gon too. Not all of us are suns, little one.”

He did not look sad, but to Ani his words definitely were, and he had glared at Obi-Wan, determined to make him _see_.

“Well to me you _are_ ”, he had said angrily. “And I think that – I think that if Master Qui-Gon was too blind to see it and to tell you so, then he was not so nice as he seemed.”

He had tears in his eyes as he spoke those words, because he didn’t want to say bad words about Master Qui-Gon, who had been so wonderfully gentle with Mum and him, and who had made him escape from Tatooine.

Obi-Wan had gone very pale at those words, and had withdrawn his hand, the training bond in Ani’s head going very, very quiet. That’s when Ani had realised that, though Obi-Wan was smiling much more and joking around, Master Che was still right in keeping him in the Halls and forcing him to talk to the Healers about what was going on inside him. Ani knew he had been doing so for one or two hours every day since he woke up. That was usually the time where their training bond would go completely mute, without any way for Ani to take a glimpse into Obi-Wan’s thoughts. It always took a few hours more for Obi-Wan to open to him again after that. And sometimes it felt like he was still shaking after a storm – just like the houses on Tatooine when the sand raged.

“Anakin, this is very far from the truth.”

His Master’s voice was very, very quiet too.

“Master Qui-Gon was not blind. He knew me for what I am. And he wanted me to embrace it. He gave me absolutely everything he had – and I cannot thank him enough for it. Sometimes I… sometimes I was struggling to understand him, and what he was expecting of me. But he was one of the kindest, most powerful and loving Jedi I have ever met. And as his former Padawan, I cannot let these words stand against him. That would be wrong, little one. I hope you understand that.”

This time, he had looked so sad it had made Ani’s throat go all tight. He had instantly moved towards Obi-Wan, wrapping his arms around his chest, listening to his heartbeats, to his quiet breaths.

“I… am sorry, Master. It was wrong. But I… don’t understand it all.”

Obi-Wan had sighed, and Ani had felt his arms around him, pulling him close.

“I am not sure I do, either”, his Master had whispered, and they had just stayed quiet after that, close to each other in the Force.

Today, however, Obi-Wan was coming _home_ , and this meant he was better. He looked better, too, not as pale, tired and thin. And Anakin knew he was mending, because Obi-Wan was able once more to shield the thoughts he did not want to share – only that this time, Ani could _feel_ it was because he wanted to, not because he felt he had to. He was also stronger, he could feel it in the Force, because there was much more presence and grace around him, and also because Obi-Wan moved differently.

It had not shown, not really, it only showed _now_ – but Obi-Wan had somehow always felt like he was righting his balance after being shoved. Always a bit reeling, struggling to keep upright. Now, however, it was entirely different, and Ani had to glance up at him as they went back to their quarters, just to make sure it was _Obi-Wan_ walking like this at his side, steady, strong, straight and so peaceful.

_What is it, little one…?_

Obi-Wan’s voice was warm in his head, as always. And Ani just smiled.

_Nothing, Master. I’m just happy._

Obi-Wan’s face betrayed nothing, nor did the way he walked or held himself. But in Ani’s head, it felt like a sun rising, and that’s when Ani knew, for a fact, that Obi-Wan was very, very wrong about himself. Because that kind of light was pure _shining_ and felt just wonderful.

They were soon back into their quarters, and Obi-Wan let the door slid closed behind them, leaning against the wall with a half-amused sigh.

“Master…?”

Obi-Wan had a small, self-conscious smile.

“Nothing, Anakin. I was just thinking…”

His Master shook his head.

“I was just thinking Kit was right. It _is_ awfully cramped in there. And I think we need to make some space…

\- You mean…?

\- Yes, little one. I think we need to go through the things in Qui-Gon’s room. And I will need you to push me hard, since we have to get it done before tonight. Because I am not sleeping on that couch again.”

Anakin laughed out loud, then, because Obi-Wan’s eyes were sparkling. He could feel something behind the light tone, though, something shy and a little scared – and instantly reached out.

_Don’t worry Master, I’ll help you._

They opened Qui-Gon’s door together, and Ani’s eyes grew large, because there was definitely a _number of things_ in that room. It was kind of shrouded, because the blinds were drawn, but Anakin could make out several plants, one especially fierce-looking, full of thorns, with some kind of a toothy _mouth_.

Then, there were data pads and flimsis and some old looking books _everywhere_ , on the desk and even piled on the ground. And a lot of foreign objects: boxes, small statues, stones, shells - on the windowsill, on the nightstand, and on the shelf above the bed.

“Are these both your things, Master?”

Obi-Wan had a small chuckle, but his eyes were shining, and Ani slid his hand in his, squeezing his fingers.

“No, little one.”

Obi-Wan shrugged his robe off, folding it carefully before setting it down on the bed. He placed his lightsaber above, shaking his head, a soft smile spreading on his face as he took the messy room in.

“This box here is mine. And that painting.

\- That’s _all_?

\- Oh yes, Anakin. It might not have shown, when we travelled, because Qui-Gon _loved_ to be on the move. But he definitely was the _messiest_ person I know, Quinlan included. Everything was interesting to him, so everything had to be kept – he was always planning to study it, eventually, and we never, _ever_ found the time…”

He had that soft, wonderful laugh once more.

“And so, one had to adjust, you know. The more he piled, the more I tried to keep what was only strictly necessary. We had rules, Anakin… He was supposed to keep his belongings in his room. Especially that plant there – because we mutually and cordially _hate_ each other ever since she tried to bite my hand off.

\- What?!

\- Oh yes. And Qui-Gon always claimed it was my fault, that I had _startled_ her. He named her _Valentine_. But I call her _Bale_ ntine – because she’s a nuisance, a threat and a fraud, and she knows it.”

By then, Anakin had sat down on the ground, laughing heartily – because the plant had riled up and was _hissing_ at Master Obi-Wan.

“How did you… get her here…?”, he hiccupped.

“She was a gift, after one of our missions in the wilderness. And Qui-Gon was besotted with her because she _liked_ him. He said she was a wonderful way to gauge the Living Force – not sure what that says about me.”

Obi-Wan was grinning, though, facing the plant with his hands on his hips, auburn hair falling into his light grey eyes.

“What I know, though, _Valentine_ , is that the rules have changed, now. No more hissing. No more biting. No more snapping. Or you are going straight to Grandmaster Yoda’s garden.”

He was all warm and soft in the Force, though, despite his stern words. The plant writhed, a little, and Obi-Wan tilted his head.

_Hey. I miss him too, you know._

Obi-Wan’s voice was incredibly gentle in the Force, and Anakin watched, fascinated, as the plant shuddered slightly, folding on herself, before rising once more, curling around the stake. Gone were the ugly teeth, instead soft, orange petals were rising shyly, making her look like a strange, beautifully beaked bird.

“Master…

\- I know, Anakin. I can’t explain it, either. But I guess it means she stays. _For now_.”

He sat down, a small smile playing around his lips, and drew one of the piles of flimsis, books and data-pads towards him with a small groan.

“Well, let’s see what we have here…”

Anakin went to the windowsill and started gathering some of the objects lying there. He soon had his hands full, and so he simply lifted the rest with the Force, piling them one above each other, careful to maintain their balance, frowning slightly in concentration.

He sat down cross-legged in front of Obi-Wan, allowing each item to float down on the ground beneath them, and even though his Master’s gaze was fixed on the flimsis he was sorting out, frown matching Anakin’s, Ani felt his praise through their training bond.

_Well done, little one. You have made such progress…_

Ani’s face betrayed nothing, either. But inside, he was _beaming_.

“Big shells looking like… well, _shells_ …?

\- Hmm… Temple zoological collection, I guess…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes were _running_ across the flimsis, stacking those he wanted to keep on the bed behind him, putting the others aside.

“I can’t _believe_ he kept those records… Madame Nu has every original in the Archives – and what’s more he didn’t even write them down…

\- Beautiful, round, black stone…?

\- Hmm… You keep it, if you like it, Ani.”

The nickname had slipped from Obi-Wan’s lips without him noticing, and Ani’s heart skipped a beat, fingers tightening around the stone. And this time Obi-Wan looked up, somewhat puzzled.

“Or, if you don’t like it… What is it, little one?

\- N-no, I like it very much, Master.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze was still searching his face, and suddenly something seemed to dawn upon him.

“Anakin, I am sorry. I did not mean to be intrusive or…

\- You’re not. You’re _not_.”

_You can. Only you. And Mum. And Padmé._

“You know, Anakin, I… I should have broached the subject before, but I… The point is – whenever we are alone and on our own, you do not have to call me Master. Only if you feel like it. Otherwise my name is just fine too.

\- Did you, with Master Qui-Gon?”

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Not very often, no. But that’s because – I guess that’s because for me the word _Master_ might mean something very different. I know our rules may look rigid and formal…

\- I wasn’t calling Watto ‘master’”, Anakin interrupted, blue eyes searching for Obi-Wan’s. “He didn’t care for such titles, but in Huttese the word for a slave-owner is something like _lord_. So… when I call you Master – I feel the same as you do, when you call me Padawan.”

_Oh._

Something in Obi-Wan seemed to quieten, then. Some unspoken anguish that somehow moved Anakin to the core, making him blink fiercely and place the black stone close to his thigh, so as to take it to his room afterwards.

“Horn?

\- Ugh, Anakin… Temple collection.

\- Are these actual feathers?

\- Mhmm… and they are joining the horn, I promise you that.”

Ani had a soft giggle – and they moved on for almost an hour, the stack of flimsis behind Obi-Wan growing only slightly, while the pile of discarded data-pads was threatening to become _piles_.

Ani soon found out that Obi-Wan was not very fond of objects that looked like trophies. Those his Master agreed to keep were those made by people they had helped, such as wooden carvings, a woven strap that could be used as a bracelet, a small wicker basket, and painted stones.

Anakin placed them back carefully on the windowsill that somehow looked bigger now, and then his hand hovered hesitantly over Valentine.

“Are you okay with moving to the window, or would you rather stay on the desk?”, he asked, as politely as he could – and this time he heard Obi-Wan’s stifled laughter.

Valentine just made a soft rustling sound, and Anakin grew bolder, placing his hands around the pot, moving her to the windowsill where she seemed to be perfectly content, orange petals searching for the sun.

“I cannot _believe_ the number of things he kept…”, Obi-Wan muttered, lifting the quite impressive pile of stuff he was discarding with a flick of the wrist, and moving towards the living room.

“Wait, Master, we don’t have any boxes…

\- Just use mine, Anakin. Put my stuff on the bed, it’s not much…”

It wasn’t, indeed. A few data-pads, pencils, a box of colours, a few items, a belt and about ten leather bounded books that looked like journals – they had Ani very interested, but he brought the box to Obi-Wan and watched his master dump his load into it, looking incredibly _satisfied_.

“Force, Anakin, you cannot begin to imagine how long I have dreamed to do _just that_ …”

That made Ani laugh. Because it was the weirdest dream _ever_ to have, and just like Obi-Wan.

“How the man even managed to _think_ in there is beyond me”, Obi-Wan muttered, going back to the room, heading straight to the next pile of flimsis that was just a _tiny_ bit smaller.

This time Anakin perched himself on the bed – there were no more objects to sort out, except two weird-looking statues that were too heavy to lift, and that he was sure Obi-Wan would not want to keep.

He placed Obi-Wan’s pencils and colours aside, along with the belt that was small enough to fit him, and that looked almost like his. And then he opened one of the journals - and was left quite speechless.

It was Obi-Wan’s handwriting – he recognized it from his own essays that his Master had been marking. But it was not as tiny, the letters somewhat more rounded, carefully made out – this was good, because it made the words easier to read for Anakin.

What was astonishing, though, were the drawings. They almost looked like photographs: a city rising from the clouds, a strange forest, a waterfall… A grim looking Togruta, a little girl holding her mother’s hand…

_We are heading back for the Temple now. I know we will not see them again – I even hope so, because it means that the peace is holding. But I will try not to forget that mission, and the people we met. They are all here, in the Force with me – and I hope the Force will always be with them._

“Master…

\- Hmm… What is it, Anakin?”

From where he sat, Anakin only saw Obi-Wan’s hair, somewhat tousled as his master raked his hand through the auburn strands, still bent on his work.

“Master, you are _amazing_ …

\- Hmm… Thank you – wait, what did you just say, Anakin?”

Obi-Wan straightened, turning towards him, looking almost alarmed, and Ani pointed to the journal, and the beautiful, _beautiful_ drawings.

“Did you draw those, Master?

\- Oh. Yes. Yes, I did”, Obi-Wan answered, voice soft, rising and sitting himself next to Anakin, turning the pages somewhat dreamily. “That was during my first year as an Apprentice. I tried to keep a journal during our longer missions… even the others, actually. It helped letting go of them, somehow. Knowing they were still fixed somewhere.

\- Did you… did you keep a journal for each year you were with Qui-Gon? Did you draw all the people you met, Master…?

\- Not all the people. Only those that… I felt somehow _attached_ to. They helped shaping me, you see. So I… I wanted to try and shape them to, on the paper. It helped me realising what they meant to me. And letting go.

\- And Master Qui-Gon? Did you draw him too?”

Obi-Wan stayed silent for a while, fingertips brushing the journal.

“I don’t think so. He was always _there_ , you see. I had no need to draw him. He was… in my mind all the time. I was not afraid to forget him – and it made no sense letting him go.

\- And now…?”

Obi-Wan closed the journal and placed it on Anakin’s lap, very gently.

“I still have no fear of forgetting him. What I feared – what I still fear sometimes, but it does get better” – his voice hitched a little, but he caught himself quickly – “is to have trouble letting him go. And then I realise it makes no sense.

\- What doesn’t, Master?

\- Imagining that I _could_ actually let him go. He was my Master, Anakin. He helped me find my way through the Force. And that means some part of Qui-Gon will always stay inside me. Trying to get rid of that… it would only mean getting rid of a part of myself, and this is a very dangerous thing.”

His hand brushed the bed beneath him, once.

“What is happening, though, and what is going to happen to you one day when you will become a Knight, is that we are not our Master’s clones. And as such, parts of their teaching we keep, but others we discard, in order to become who we are.

\- I won’t”, Anakin snorted, disdainfully – but Obi-Wan just smiled.

“Oh, you most decidedly will, little one. But not just yet.”

He ruffled Anakin’s head, not caring for his squirming, and then Obi-Wan lowered himself back to the ground and the stack of flimsis.

Ani, however, stayed on the bed, engrossed in the tales of Obi-Wan’s journal, lips reading the most difficult words aloud, flat on his belly and legs dangling in the air – sometimes just gazing at the drawings and daydreaming.

He had almost finished the second journal when Obi-Wan sat down beneath him – looking up, Anakin realised that the room was clean and almost empty. The piles of flimsis and dusty data-pads had disappeared from the ground. The remaining books and data-pads were stored neatly on the shelves above the bed and next to the desk, where a beautiful green painting was leaning against the wall, waiting to be hung.

“Oh…”

The room looked so _peaceful_. So quiet. It felt like sitting down next to a stream of water – like a soft, protected haven.

“It looks so different now, Master… It’s beautiful…

\- Thank you, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan looked tired, but at peace – it had been a lot of work sorting through all the stuff, but somehow it did not feel like Master Qui-Gon was gone completely. It rather felt like what was remaining of him was _clearer_ – even though that space was wholly and completely Obi-Wan’s now.

“Look what I found”, Obi-Wan told Ani, showing him a small, blue stone that was glimmering softly on his palm.

“What is it, Master?

\- My Initiate crystal.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was soft, his thumb caressing the crystal.

“I picked it up when I was about your age. On Ilum. We will have to go there together, very soon, so that you can pick yours and I can get a new one.

\- Can’t you keep Qui-Gon’s, Master? And give that one to me? That way we could start training faster with lightsabers…”

Anakin’s voice was hitching with excitement, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

“That is not how it works, Anakin… Try to hold the crystal, you will see…”

Anakin carefully took the light blue stone, holding it in his palm.

_Soft – quiet – gentle – reflective – anxious – loving – very young._

_Not you._

The crystal’s light seemed to flicker, then, and the stone went out, looking almost grey in Anakin’s palm, who looked at Obi-Wan in dismay.

“I broke it, Master…

\- No, you did not”, Obi-Wan answered, taking it back. “Look. It will begin to shine again soon – because it’s attuned to me. Well – rather to my younger self.”

He had a soft, dreamy smile.

“I had forgotten what it felt like”, he whispered. “We really are awfully young when we get those, I suppose…”

Anakin watched the stone begin to shine again, radiating a soft blue against Obi-Wan’s skin.

“And Qui-Gon’s, Master?

\- I think it went out with him”, Obi-Wan murmured. “I never tried to switch his lightsaber on, after he passed. I do not think it would have worked, anyway.

\- Could you… take out Qui-Gon’s crystal, and replace it with yours? Do you think it could work, Master? You cannot stay without a lightsaber, can you?

\- Not really, no”, Obi-Wan smiled. “You know, Anakin, that thought had crossed my mind as well… It’s not really _orthodox_ , I suppose. But Qui-Gon wasn’t either. And I – I think he might have even liked it.”

Anakin wedged himself as closely as he could to Obi-Wan and the lightsaber, practically melting against his Master’s side. And then he watched Obi-Wan close his eyes, using the Force to gently open Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, allowing the parts to float apart, softly and reverently.

He reached for the crystal that had once shone in a vibrant green, and was now grey and unreflecting, but still beautiful. And then he placed the soft, tender, blue crystal in the heart of the lightsaber, closing the weapon around it like a casket, making it whole again.

Obi-Wan’s hand closed around the hilt and a soft shudder went through him, running through his arm and his whole body.

“It does feel a bit strange”, Obi-Wan whispered, eyes still closed – but then Anakin felt the Force around him settle.

“I _could_ get used to that, for a little while, though…”

There was wonder and also happiness, in his Master’s voice. And Ani realised that Obi-Wan had not really felt whole until now. Not without his lightsaber, not without a crystal attuned to his mind and soul – allowing him to shine, to fight and to protect like the true Jedi he was.

“Anakin, would you… would you find it very remiss of me if I just… tried it out right now?”

There was eagerness, almost _impatience_ in Obi-Wan’s voice, and it just felt wonderful. Because something was bubbling with joy and dare, deep inside him, making his eyes shine.

“ _No_ , Master! Of course not!

\- Then let’s go, Padawan mine. I have some deeds to settle with Quinlan anyway.”

Obi-Wan clipped Qui-Gon’s lightsaber – _his_ lightsaber now – to his belt and cast a last look around the room, smiling shyly.

“It _does_ look beautiful”, he whispered. “Thank you, little one.”

He was smiling. Obi-Wan was _smiling_. On the way to the training grounds, and even as he and Quinlan saluted each other, ready to duel. It seemed like he couldn’t stop, not even as he fought.

Ani watched him open-mouthed, almost beside himself with awe, because Obi-Wan was fast, seemingly thinking and moving _before_ the Force, matching Quinlan’s forceful, spinning strides with calm, quick counters. He let Quinlan push him from one end of the training ground to the other, and all the time he was _smiling_ , not even breaking out in a sweat.

“You… little… _fickle_ … thing”, Quinlan growled, spinning around Obi-Wan with a high somersault, trying to reach for his back, only to be met with Obi-Wan’s blade, because his Master had arched his body, almost lying below Quinlan, righting himself with a perfect bridge.

“Stealing from Nara. Shameless”, Quinlan spat, but Obi-Wan just laughed.

“Blah – _blah_ – _BLAH._ ”, Anakin heard his Master _tease_ , leaving him speechless.

“Shall we cut the foreplay, Quinlan?

\- Kenobi!”

Master Quinlan was spluttering and _very_ red in the face now – but then a wide grin spread on his features, matching Obi-Wan’s.

“I am so kicking your ass, Kenobi.

\- As I said. _Words_.”

They sparred for so long Anakin forgot who was winning. It did not really seem to matter – they just whirled around each other, green blade meeting the blue one, attracting several Jedi who stopped to watch them fight.

“It can go on for hours”, Master Fisto said, dryly. “Unless someone separates them. Just tell us when you are hungry, little one, and Nara and I will make sure to step in.

\- I’m not hungry”, Anakin said, almost automatically, eyes unable to leave his Master’s form – because he was fighting like nothing he had seen before, and because the Force around Obi-Wan was _singing_ in delight.

“I hope they never stop”, he whispered, adoration colouring every word, and Master Fisto laughed, heartily.

“They will have to, though. But not just yet. We’ll leave Padawan Kenobi and Padawan Vos to their little games a while more.”

This time, Anakin burst out in laughter. He had never seen Obi-Wan like this, quick, mischievous, daring and _strong_. He was matching every move of Quinlan’s, laughing and shining in the Force. And Ani basked in the joy it gave him, and in the feeling that he had been right.

Obi-Wan was no moon. No gentle, modest light. He was pure Fire, whenever he wanted to, and a wonderful sun that could never scorch or burn.

Most of all, though, he was Anakin’s Master – and the best reason to stay here and try to become the best Jedi ever. Just like him.

Ani could not wait to go to Ilum and find his own crystal. And he was pretty sure he was going to get a blue one. Blue like Tatooine’s sky, like the tunic Padmé was wearing the first time they met, like Master Qui-Gon’s eyes. Blue like Obi-Wan’s, shining gently through the Force.

Anakin smiled, and watched his Master fight.

**FINIS.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, dear ones, it is done, and I put my virtual pen down for this story with a pang in my chest and tears in my eyes. Because it has been so, so wonderful to meet you all, especially the wonderful writers and reviewers on A03. You made my weeks flow in these somewhat rough times. You made my mind expand, my thoughts flow, my imagination race - and it is something so precious to me that I'll never thank you enough. Sometimes reading your reviews and responses was enough to brighten my day and give me so much energy for my work and my patients. So thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> To come back to this little chapter, of course I toyed with letting little Ani come across a drawing of Satine. I also thought of taking them back to Naboo, because in my head the ceremony we see at the end of the Phantom Menace was happening weeks afterwards, when Ani was a settled Padawan and the Naboo and Gungans not reeling from their war anymore. And then Ani and Obi decided they were fine, and quite content in talking both through Ani's voice... They both thank you for your love and for the fact that seeing them at peace brings you joy ;).
> 
> Dear ones... please let us not break our little Friday pact. There are still weeks ahead, and I really, really want to write that story about little Obi and his Green friends, about Qui-Gon finding him and both growing along each other. So, since I have not managed to start it and write the first chapter today - I'm giving you a little rendez-vous. Next Friday, check out my profile, and you'll find there's a new story out there. I don't know how it will be called, but it will be there before Saturday, I promise. And if you feel like it, please keep in touch, don't hesitate to read, review or share your thoughts. Because I'm missing you already.
> 
> Take care, and may the Force and all its blessings be with you always. Much, much love, and thank you, Meysun.


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